mpetition
would be crushed, or that, monopoly once established, labour must
sweat and the public groan in order that a few captains, or
chevaliers, of industry, might double their dividends. Mr. French may
have known it, or guessed it, but he was between the devil and the
deep sea--a victim rather than an accessory--he must take what he
could get, or lose what he had.

"Nine fifty-nine!"

Kirby, as he breathed rather than spoke the words, threw away his
scarcely lighted cigarette, and gripped the arms of his chair
spasmodically. His partner's attitude had not varied by a hair's
breadth; except for the scarcely perceptible rise and fall of his
chest he might have been a wax figure. The pallor of his countenance
would have strengthened the illusion.

Kirby pushed his chair back and sprung to his feet. The clock marked
the hour, but nothing happened. Kirby was wont to say, thereafter,
that the ten minutes that followed were the longest day of his life.
But everything must have an end, and their suspense was terminated by
a telephone call. Mr. French took down the receiver and placed it to
his ear.

"It's all right," he announced, looking toward his partner. "Our
figures accepted--resolution adopted--settlement to-morrow. We
are----"

The receiver fell upon the table with a crash. Mr. French toppled
over, and before Kirby had scarcely realised that something was the
matter, had sunk unconscious to the floor, which, fortunately, was
thickly carpeted.

It was but the work of a moment for Kirby to loosen his partner's
collar, reach into the recesses of a certain drawer in the big desk,
draw out a flask of brandy, and pour a small quantity of the burning
liquid down the unconscious man's throat. A push on one of the
electric buttons summoned a clerk, with whose aid Mr. French was
lifted to a leather-covered couch that stood against the wall. Almost
at once the effect of the stimulant was apparent, and he opened his
eyes.

"I suspect," he said, with a feeble attempt at a smile, "that I must
have fainted--like a woman--perfectly ridiculous."

"Perfectly natural," replied his partner. "You have scarcely slept for
two weeks--between the business and Phil--and you've reached the end
of your string. But it's all over now, except the shouting, and you
can sleep a week if you like. You'd better go right up home. I'll send
for a cab, and call Dr. Moffatt, and ask him to be at the hotel by the
time you reach it. I'll take ca