Everyone agreed it was a difficult morning on the Stock Exchange, although for that matter a great many mornings during the past three weeks had been the same. The bottom had fallen out of innumerable cans. Persons with scarlet or greenish white faces were waving their hands and calling on the Deity to explain the collapse of cast iron securities. If there had been a threat of war things could hardly have been worse. The worst of it was that none of the big sellers seemed disposed to give their reasons for unloading. Mr. Hilbert Torrington, when asked why he had sold huge quantities of oil shares, courteously replied to all and various that he had no observations to make. The oil market, particularly that controlled by Hugo Van Diest, had slumped fifteen points in three days and the others had fallen sympathetically. And now, as though the oil collapse were not enough, appeared Ezra P. Hipps unloading Estuary Rails at a price that would hardly pay for printing the scrip. Ten days earlier the Estuary had looked like a cinch and Nugent Cassis, who had a reputation for sanity, had been buying it by the yard. Here was stock at nineteen shillings being offered at fivepence, and no rush to take it up even at that price. Everyone knew that Hipps was the moving spirit in the Estuary. His holdings were enormous.

"In Heaven's name, man, what's the idea?" was shouted at him from every side.

"I'm getting out," was the only answer he condescended.

Nugent Cassis was beginning to lose his nerve as emphasised by the fact that he was continually winding his watch or pulling at his precise grey beard. His usual air of calm ill-humour had deserted him and, as Lord Almont laconically remarked, "Poor old Cassis is flapping in the wind."

"Can't understand their motive," he repeated over and over again. "If they believe they've got Barraclough tucked safely away, what can they gain by this stock juggling?"

"They are laying a false scent presumably," said Mr. Torrington.

"They must be aware that we know about the kidnapping."

"I imagine so. At any rate Cranbourne intends to put them wise."

"Then where's the object?"

"Our friend Frencham Altar has disappointed 'em perhaps, so they turn their attentions once more to our humble selves."

"Makes me almost wish we'd left the whole thing alone. Seventy thousand pounds in three weeks. Appalling! Appalling!"

"But consider how we shall be requited when Barraclough turns up with the concession."

"If he turns up."

"We shall know at eleven o'clock tonight."

"That's purely hypothetical."

"My dear Cassis, the world is made up of hypotheses—dreams that sometimes come true. What are you doing with your holdings in Estuary?"

"I'm selling."

The old man's eyes blazed.

"On the contrary, my friend. This is a fight and we fight to a finish, please. By your leave we do not take the count until tomorrow morning."

"I'm not made of money," Cassis complained.

"Very well then, if you are determined to sell—sell to me."

"Are you crazy?"

"Possibly. Come over here."

Mr. Torrington took Cassis by the arm and led him to the excited group surrounding Ezra P. Hipps. The American's head and shoulders appeared above the crowd. He was offering Estuary Rails at fourpence three farthings. Catching sight of Nugent Cassis he broke into a grin, shook his head sadly and asked:

"Coming to join the party?"

"We are," replied Mr. Torrington, "in the form of purchasers. I'll buy at four-three."

The American frowned.

"Say, you serious, Mr. Wise Man?"

"Perfectly."

"What'll you take?"

"All you've got."

The news went round like wild fire and half an hour later the price of
Estuaries was running up like quicksilver dipped in hot water.

"What in hell do you make of that?" Hipps demanded of his chief.

Hugo Van Diest shrugged his shoulders.

"He wass a doughty adversary, dis Mr. Torrington," he replied. "Must egshpect dis sort of ting."

"Guess there's more behind it than that. What are they hoping on, anyway?"

"Donno—donno."

But the sudden appearance of Sydney Cranbourne did something to enlighten them.

"Forgive my intrusion, gentlemen," he said, "but could you give me a possible date on which we might expect the return of our mutual friend?"

Neither Hipps nor Van Diest betrayed the smallest surprise.

"Our mutual friend, Mister Cranbourne?"

"I was referring to a gentleman whose initials are A. B."

"A. B.! Wasn't that the guy who went out to look for a radium field three weeks ago today?"

"The same," said Cranbourne sweetly. "But we had reason to believe he changed his plans and accepted another invitation."

"You've been dreaming, dear," said Hipps.

"Perhaps I have, Mr. Hipps. The matter is of no great importance but I dreamt of the Old Bailey among other things and of three gentlemen, prominent in financial circles, who were charged with unlawfully detaining someone against his will and endeavouring to induce him to confide certain information."

"And then, I suppose," remarked Hipps, "you woke up and knocked over your cup of early tea."

"Why, no," replied Cranbourne. "I sat up in bed and worked out details for the flotation of the Radium Company in which I have an interest."

Hipps looked at Van Diest, shook his head and tapped his brow.

"Sure it's the heat," he said. "There ain't going to be any flotation that I've heard of."

"Think not? It would be a pity if you gentlemen gave way to overmuch expression of optimism. It hardly accords with your actions of the last few days."

Van Diest smiled expansively.

"Ver' distressing dis uneven market."

"I imagine you must have found it so."

"Poor Mister Cassis—he was ver' green dis morning."

"Our dear Cassis is a born actor. Well, gentlemen, I won't keep you any longer except to offer my sympathy that you have found A. B. so indifferent a confidant. Good day."

And with a polite bow he turned and mingled with the crowd.

"Can't quite get the strength of all that," observed Hipps as he and Van Diest passed out of the main door, "but one thing sticks out a mile. We can't hold our prisoner indefinitely. He must be made to talk right away."

"Dis evening we make the big effort."

"And assumin' it fails?"

"Dat would be a peety—such a peety."

Hipps stood thinking for a moment.

"I've half a mind to turn on the girl again. Let her vamp the secret out of him. We don't progress, you know. Say, you don't think they've a line on where we've got him hid?"

Van Diest waved away the suggestion.

"No, no, no. S'all right. S'arranged too well."

"Then I'll trot up West and buy Auriole a lunch. What time tonight?"

"At nine o'clock."

"I'll be along."

He jumped into a taxi, drove round and collected Auriole and carried her off to the Carlton Hotel. She seemed tired and lacklustre, a circumstance he noted with some small annoyance.

"See here, kid," he said. "We've a big set piece scheduled for tonight and you're a participant."

"I am."

"Sure. Our friend has proved a disappointment in the talking line."

For a moment a flash of enthusiasm burned in her eyes.

"The persecution has failed then?"

"It's early to say so but we've a notion it 'ud do no harm to accelerate a trifle."

"You'd hardly dare torture him more than you've done already."

"We thought of trying out one or two new effects but supposing they fail then it's up to you to take a hand."

"No," said Auriole, "no. You found me a failure before—let's leave it at that. My part's ended."

"Haven't you kind o' forgotten something?"

"What?"

"My offer to you was made providing we pull off this deal. Failing that it's cancelled."

Auriole's expression, seemed to go very flat indeed. There was a look of disgust in her eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Maybe we shall call on you for the 'whisper and I shall hear' act.
It'd make a nice variety for Anthony after the shouting."

"You want me to make love to him?"

"Sure. And I'll try and govern my jealousy for a short stretch."

She was silent for a longish while, then she nodded.

"But only as a last resort," she insisted.

"That's a bet. Me and Van'll be trundling along in the Rolls about ninish—care to join us?"

"No, I'll use the two seater."

"Back your fancy. But see here—no back sliding, mind. A hell of a lot hangs on his being made to talk—a hell of a lot," he repeated seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Never do for a fine chap like him to die young."

"Die? You wouldn't dare."

"It's certain sure we wouldn't dare turn him out in the world again after what's happened."

"Do you mean you'd——"

"Think it over."

And she thought it over while Ezra P. Hipps addressed himself to a liberal helping of saddle of mutton smeared with great dollops of red currant jelly that looked to her like blood.