e himself! But the fellow's motive? Spite? Looked
like it. Spite, because he had been disappointed of his money, and
defied into the bargain! H'm! If that were so, he might still be got to
blow cold again. His eyes lighted on the pink note with the blue
forget-me-not. It marked as it were the high water mark of what was left
to him of life; and this other letter in his hand-by Jove! Low water
mark! And with a deep and rumbling sigh he thought: 'No, I'm not going
to be beaten by this fellow.'

"Your bath is ready, sir."

Crumpling the two letters into the pocket of his dressing-gown, he said:

"Help me up; and telephone to Mr. Farney to be good enough to come
round." ....

An hour later, when the secretary entered, his chairman was sitting by
the fire perusing the articles of association. And, waiting for him to
look up, watching the articles shaking in that thick, feeble hand, the
secretary had one of those moments of philosophy not too frequent with
his kind. Some said the only happy time of life was when you had no
passions, nothing to hope and live for. But did you really ever reach
such a stage? The old chairman, for instance, still had his passion for
getting his own way, still had his prestige, and set a lot of store by
it! And he said:

"Good morning, sir; I hope you're all right in this east wind. The
purchase is completed."

"Best thing the company ever did. Have you heard from a shareholder
called Ventnor. You know the man I mean?"

"No, sir. I haven't."

"Well! You may get a letter that'll make you open your eyes. An
impudent scoundrel! Just write at my dictation."

"February 14th, 1905.

"CHARLES VENTNOR, Esq.

"SIR,--I have your letter of yesterday's date, the contents of which I am
at a loss to understand. My solicitors will be instructed to take the
necessary measures."

'Phew What's all this about?' the secretary thought.

"Yours truly...."

"I'll sign." And the shaky letters closed the page:
"SYLVANUS HEYTHORP."

"Post that as you go."

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Nothing, except to let me know if you hear from this fellow."

When the secretary had gone the old man thought: 'So! The ruffian hasn't
called the meeting yet. That'll bring him round here fast enough if it's
his money he wants-blackmailing scoundrel!'

"Mr. Pillin, sir; and will you wait lunch, or will you have it in the
dining-room?"

"In the dining-room."

At sight of that