Till
then you may call it a--a--"
"Weapon," suggested the railway man.
"No. You may call it rather an argument," corrected Charles Gould,
gently. "And that's how I've presented it to Mr. Holroyd."
"And what did he say to it?" asked the engineer, with undisguised
interest.
"He"--Charles Gould spoke after a slight pause--"he said something
about holding on like grim death and putting our trust in God. I should
imagine he must have been rather startled. But then"--pursued the
Administrador of the San Tome mine--"but then, he is very far away, you
know, and, as they say in this country, God is very high above."
The engineer's appreciative laugh died away down the stairs, where the
Madonna with the Child on her arm seemed to look after his shaking broad
back from her shallow niche.
CHAPTER SIX
A profound stillness reigned in the Casa Gould. The master of the house,
walking along the corredor, opened the door of his room, and saw his
wife sitting in a big armchair--his own smoking armchair--thoughtful,
contemplating her little shoes. And she did not raise her eyes when he
walked in.
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