Two days after Edward's conviction, when we were all getting a little accustomed to his loss, Miriam and I had spent an hour of the afternoon in her garden, laying plans for our now fast-approaching elopement, and had just left it when Mollie came running towards us with the news that Herman and Amelia had come to tea, and wanted to see us both.

I always felt a little uneasy at the thought of Herman Eppstein, and as in two days' time he was to sell my holding in Mount Lebanons, I thought that he might have come to say something to me about them.

I was determined, however, that he should not say it in the drawing-room, if I could possibly help it. Directly we went in, I began to talk about Edward, and about the exciting things that were happening generally, and so infected the rest with my loquacity that they all became loquacious too, and we made an animated party. Mr. Perry was there, which was somewhat unusual, but since Edward's departure he had been about the house a good deal, and seemed to find it restful.

I saw very plainly, though, that Eppstein was dying to bring out some news, and only awaited a lull in the conversation to do so. I was also doubtful whether his wife did not know as much about Mount Lebanons as he did, for her eye was often fixed upon me with a curious expression. She took her full share in the conversation, but I could see that she would make no effort to prolong it if it flagged of its own accord. I tried to make signs to Eppstein, but he either couldn't or wouldn't understand them, and presently I had to resign myself to some ultimate revelation.

Just as I thought, and the Eppsteins must also have thought, that this time had come, there was a diversion. I heard a ring at the front door bell, and heard Blother and Lord Arthur go across the hall to answer it. I exerted myself to give the talk another fillip, until the caller, if there was one, should arrive, and breathed again when the door was flung open and Mr. Blother's sonorous voice announced a name. But when I heard that name my spirit sank again.

The visitor was Mr. Hobson, and he came into the room with a wild and disordered air, which changed to one of menace as, without even greeting Mrs. Perry, he pointed at me and cried: "Deceiver! You are not what you pretend to be!"

Few deceivers are; and my conscience was not wholly clear. But I was, at any rate, unconscious of having done Mr. Hobson any harm, and asked him, in some surprise, what complaint he had against me.

It was Herman Eppstein who took up the question, and dealt with it with a resource which I should hardly have expected of him.

"I know all about it, Mr. 'Obson," he said, "and you 'aven't nothing to grumble at. Mr. 'Oward took over your shares at market price, and did you a very good turn. If you'd a knowed you could do better by 'anging on to them, why did you let 'em go?"

Mr. Hobson sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands, rocking his body to and fro.

"I might have known it," he said. "Nothing I ever do goes right. If I had kept those shares, I should have been a poor man once more. And I should have kept them, if he hadn't come and pretended to be doing me a good turn."

He lifted up his head, and hissed the word "Viper!" at me, and then subsided once more into his state of misery.

"What is it all about, Herman? What has happened?" asked Mr. Perry.

I also wanted to know what had happened. I was not feeling at all comfortable, and no longer wished to prevent Eppstein from telling his story.

"Mr. 'Oward took over thirty-five thousand Mount Lebanon shares from Mr. 'Obson. It was all in order, and Mr. 'Obson must 'ave been precious glad to get rid of them. Mr. 'Oward 'olds them now, and I take this opportunity of congratulating him. Still, I do think, as 'e is almost a member of this family and you might say, 'e might 'ave let some of the rest of us into the know, instead of keeping all the good luck to 'imself."

"What has happened?" asked Mr. Perry again.

"Arst 'im. 'E'll tell you," said Eppstein.

"I would rather you did," I said. "You can put it more lucidly."

"Well, they've been rocky for a long time," explained Eppstein, "but they bulled them up, and never let on that they'd come to the end of their lode. But this afternoon the news come that there's been no gold for a long time, and they've been paying interest out of capital. And that ain't all. There's never been more than five shillings a share paid on them. They're calling up another five shillings at the end of a month, and they'll call up the rest at three months' intervals, and then they'll wind up. 'Oward, I don't bear no malice—you've got the bulge on all of us this time—and I should like to shake 'ands with you."

I shook hands with him, my brain in a tumult, then with his wife, and finally with Mr. Perry, who had by this time taken in the full meaning of Eppstein's announcement, which was a good deal more than I had.

It was Hobson who brought home to me the appalling reality.

"He came to me," he said accusingly, "and offered to take twenty or thirty thousand pounds from me as a free gift. He led me up to offering him all my holding in Mount Lebanons. If I had kept them I should have stood to lose over £140,000 now, and should have been entitled to pay up another £26,000 in calls—nearly £170,000 in all. And now he has lost all that, and I say it isn't fair. He has swindled me."

There followed an altercation between him and Eppstein and Mr. Perry. Mr. Perry rebuked him for the unfounded accusations he had made against me, and Eppstein told him that he was the swindler if he expected to lose it both ways. But still, he kept on repeating his reproaches, and finally I took a bold resolution, and generously offered to let him have his shares back again.

But neither Eppstein nor Mr. Perry would hear of this, and I was not in a position to press it. After all, Hobson had already lost the full value of his shares, and could only stand to gain by the amount he would have had to pay up on the calls.

When this was pointed out to him, he acknowledged that he had never been much of a business man, apologised to me for his behaviour, and went away somewhat comforted, leaving me to the congratulations of the family.

I accepted them, I hope, modestly. I was almost paralysed by the blow. Instead of being able to leave Upsidonia with a comfortable fortune, I should leave it under an appalling burden of debt. I had lost a hundred and seventy thousand pounds, and could only comfort myself with the resolution never again as long as I lived to put my finger in the Stock Exchange pie. But it was cold comfort enough, and I broke away as soon as I could from the delight of Mr. Perry, who now saw in me a most eligible son-in-law, and from the ill-concealed jealousy of Mrs. Eppstein. I took Eppstein into the library with me on the plea of business. I wanted time to think before I had another talk with Miriam, who, I could see, had been deeply puzzled by the foregoing conversation, and whose due it was to have all the explanation I could offer.