COPLEY turned to his visitor with an air of surprise. He held out his hand with an appearance of great friendliness and began to talk about horses as if nothing out of the common had happened.

"I am sorry I have been unable to see you," he said. "But I have been dreadfully harassed in business. You country gentlemen think that capitalists like myself have unlimited cash. Never, my dear Sir George, was there a greater mistake. There are times when I would give one of my ears for a thousand pounds in hard cash. Everything we have is locked up, and bankers are so chary of speculative securities. Of course, it comes all right in the long run, but really, for some days, matters have been extremely critical. However, I managed to make a satisfactory arrangement last night, and came home dead tired, with the full intention of not going near the City for two or three days. I hope there is nothing amiss with you. I don't suppose there is. Ah, you want to be in my line to know what anxiety is." "I think I've a pretty fair idea of it," Sir George said, as he shook hands. "You have been good enough to advise me once or twice, and I thought I would come over this morning and consult you about a worry of my own. I came on the off-chance, and esteem myself fortunate to find you at home."

"Oh, not at all, not at all," Copley said breezily. "In fact, I was coming to see you. My conscience has been pricking me, and I feel I have been very rude. But come into the library and tell me all about it. I'll help you if I can."

"You are exceedingly good," Sir George said gratefully. "I have had a most unpleasant shock this morning. It has to do with those people, Absalom & Co. They tell me you have transferred my debt to them. I can't understand it."

Copley shook his head as he motioned his visitor to a chair. He passed over the cigars to Sir George, and sat down to listen in an attitude of respectful attention.

"No, you wouldn't understand these things," he explained. "It is only the man of hard business training and instinct that can follow the ramifications of modern finance. Finance is a fascinating sport with substantial gains for the successful man, but Heaven help him who fails. He is bound to go to the wall, and no one has the slightest mercy for him. It is almost a truism to say that we are at war with one another. Though outwardly on good terms, we really are the bitterest enemies. It is part of the game. I go and stay with other financiers, and they come and stay with me. We drink each other's wine and smoke each other's cigars. We share grouse moors and yachts, we even marry each other's daughters. But, at the same time, it is everybody for himself. That is one of the recognized rules, and if you go under you may become a clerk or something of that kind, unless you prefer to blow out your brains. It is all the same in the City. I tell you this, so that you may understand what a lot of enemies one makes when one embarks in a new venture. It is a mistake to imagine that all the money the successful man makes comes from the public. Every time I make a quarter of a million, some of my friends must suffer. I have a very big thing on at present, and thought I had guarded myself at all points. But man is only human, and it is impossible to foresee everything. Two of my cleverest friends spotted the weak point in my armour, and were not slow to take their opportunity. They squeezed me to such an extent that, about a fortnight ago, they very nearly crushed the life out of me altogether. I was compelled to find forty thousand pounds at a few hours' notice. The only people I could think of were Absalom & Co., and I transferred your debt to them. My dear fellow, if I hadn't done so I should have been in the Bankruptcy Court to-day. Absalom & Co., in their turn, are being squeezed, and that is why they are putting pressure upon you."

"Then you can't help me?" Sir George said blankly.

"My dear Sir George, I am afraid not. It is with great regret I say this. In two or three weeks I shall be in funds, and if you will wait till then, why I shall give you my cheque with pleasure. At the moment I have nothing. In a month's time I shall have a fortune at my disposal. But probably these people won't wait."

"Then I am ruined," Sir George exclaimed.

Copley murmured that it looked very much like it. He made no suggestion at all. He merely appeared to be duly sympathetic. He was waiting for Sir George Haredale to realize his position. That done, it would be easy to play his game successfully.

For a time Sir George paced up and down the library. He cursed himself and his bad fortune, blamed Chance, bemoaned his cruel ill luck; in fact, like the weak man he was, he blamed everything except the headlong folly and short-sighted blindness which had brought all this about. In the meantime, Copley sat letting his fish play until his strength was exhausted and he could readily be drawn to land. It was a one-sided battle.

"Is there nothing you can suggest?" Sir George cried despairingly. "Is there no way of getting delay?"

Copley made no reply for a time. When at length he spoke he dropped his voice to a persuasive whisper.

"Well, there is one method," he said. "Absalom is a sportsman, and he takes a great interest in racing matters. Between ourselves, he finances some of the swell bookmakers, and I understand has a grip upon some of the large commission firms. If you could show him a way to make thirty or forty thousand pounds on a race like the Derby, you might induce him to withdraw his execution for a month. Though he is in a corner, or he wouldn't have dropped on you, the suggestion I speak of would be worth a sacrifice."

"I don't follow you," Sir George said.

"No? Then I must speak more plainly. At the present moment you own a colt which looks like winning the Derby. I know the colt has been coughing lately, but your man Raffle is very sanguine and knows what he is talking about. I see the colt has come back in the betting to eight to one, and the public never seem to be tired of backing him. That, however, is the public's look-out and is no concern of yours. In the colt's present condition you will be justified in putting a pen through his name and nobody could blame you. Owners don't raise horses for the benefit of the public, and if the public choose to come in and forestall the market and the horse is scratched, then they must take the consequences. It has been done over and over again, and I don't see why you shouldn't do it yourself. You needn't do it to-day, or to-morrow, or even next week, but if I can assure Absalom that this is going to happen, why, in that case, I feel certain these proceedings will be withdrawn, and perhaps such terms arranged as will wipe the debt out altogether. Do you follow me?"

Sir George sat white and rigid. He seemed trying dimly to comprehend what Copley was driving at. All the time Copley was speaking he did not meet the eye of his victim. But Sir George's face was no index of his feelings. He was quivering from head to foot with a nameless indignation and, though Copley did not know it, was within an ace of inflicting personal punishment on the financier.

"You can't be in earnest," Sir George said with difficulty. "Surely, you were joking when you asked me to do this thing? Why, it would be contemptible, dishonourable to the last degree. I expect to win a fortune with the Blenheim colt, but I backed him at a very long price, and if he breaks down the loss will not be so great. It would be bad enough to lose a fortune which I regarded as as good as in my pocket, but deliberately to scratch the horse, to wait for a fortnight whilst these friends of yours are laying against the colt, is an insult which I did not dream any man would put upon me." "You will pardon me if I don't see it in that light," Copley said coolly. "You have a right to do what you like with your own. You are justified in scratching the horse and, indeed, you have every excuse for doing so. I don't see that it matters much whether it is done to-day or in a fortnight's time. You may lose the few thousands pounds you put on the colt, but that seems probable in any case. And, on the other hand, you have it in your power to wipe out your debt to me—that is, to benefit to the extent of forty thousand pounds."

Sir George's indignation began to ebb. He no longer felt a disposition to smite Copley hip and thigh; he was thinking of his own position and future.

"And if I refuse?"

Copley shrugged his shoulders eloquently.

"In that case, there is no more to be said or done," he answered. "I would help you if I could, but I am powerless just now. But perhaps you will think better of it. I am sure you will be tired of that man in possession by the end of a week."