nd coin money now," said Ieremia, drawing a small package of
notes from the pouch at his girdle.

Cornelius scanned the package with a quick, estimating eye.

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall give you the coin money now. How much?"

"And we will see the system work," the king proclaimed, partaking in his
Chancellor's triumph.

"You have heard!--He will give coin money now!" Ieremia cried in a loud
voice to the assemblage.

At the same time he plunged both hands in the basket and drew forth many
packages of Fitu-Ivan notes. It was noticed that a peculiar odour was
adrift about the council.

"I have here," Ieremia announced, "one thousand and twenty-eight pounds
twelve shillings and sixpence. Here is a sack to put the coin money in."

Cornelius recoiled. He had not expected such a sum, and everywhere about
the council his uneasy eyes showed him chiefs and talking men drawing
out bundles of notes. The army, its two months' pay in its hands,
pressed forward to the edge of the council, while behind it the
populace, with more money, invaded the compound.

"'Tis a run on the bank you've precipitated," he said reproachfully to
Grief.

"Here is the sack to put the coin money in," Ieremia urged.

"It must be postponed," Cornelius said desperately, "'Tis not in banking
hours."

Ieremia flourished a package of money. "Nothing of banking hours is
written here. It says on demand, and I now demand."

"Let them come to-morrow, O Tui Tulifau," Cornelius appealed to the
king. "They shall be paid to-morrow."

Tui Tulifau hesitated, but his spouse glared at him, her brawny arm
tensing as the fist doubled into a redoubtable knot, Tui Tulifau tried
to look away, but failed. He cleared his throat nervously.

"We will see the system work," he decreed. "The people have come far."

"'Tis good money you're asking me to pay out," Deasy muttered in a low
voice to the king.

Sepeli caught what he said, and grunted so savagely as to startle the
king, who involuntarily shrank away from her.

"Forget not the pig," Grief whispered to Ieremia, who immediately stood
up.

With a sweeping gesture he stilled the babel of voices that was
beginning to rise.

"It was an ancient and honourable custom of Fitu-Iva," he said, "that
when a man was proved a notorious evildoer his joints were broken with
a club and he was staked out at low water to be fed upon alive by the
sharks. Unfortunately, that day is past. Nevertheless another ancient
a