ws who 8874 is except myself."

He patted the big index affectionately.

"The name is there. When I leave this office it will be behind three
depths of steel; when I die it will be burned with me."

He opened the little book again and read. He read steadily for a quarter
of an hour in a monotonous, singsong voice, and John Minute slowly sat
himself erect and listened with tense face and narrow eyelids to the
record. He did not interrupt until the other had finished.

"Half of your facts are lies," he said harshly. "Some of them are just
common gossip; some are purely imaginary."

Saul Arthur Mann closed the book and shook his head.

"Everything here," he said, touching the book, "is true. It may not be
the truth as you want it known, but it is the truth. If I thought there
was a single fact in there which was not true my _raison d'etre_ would
be lost. That is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,
Mr. Minute," he went on, and the good-natured little face was pink with
annoyance.

"Suppose it were the truth," interrupted John Minute, "what price would
you ask for that record and such documents as you say you have to prove
its truth?"

The other leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands meditatively.

"How much do you think you are worth, Mr. Minute?"

"You ought to know," said the other with a sneer.

Saul Arthur Mann inclined his head.

"At the present price of securities, I should say about one million two
hundred and seventy thousand pounds," he said, and John Minute opened
his eyes in astonishment.

"Near enough," he reluctantly admitted.

"Well," the little man continued, "if you multiply that by fifty and you
bring all that money into my office and place it on that table in
ten-thousand-pound notes, you could not buy that little book or the
records which support it."

He jumped up.

"I am afraid I am keeping you, Mr. Minute."

"You are not keeping me," said the other roughly. "Before I go I want to
know what use you are going to make of your knowledge."

The little man spread out his hands in deprecation.

"What use? You have seen the use to which I have put it. I have told you
what no other living soul will know."

"How do you know I am John Minute?" asked the visitor quickly.

"Some twenty-seven photographs of you are included in the folder which
contains your record, Mr. Minute," said the little investigator calmly.
"You see, you are quite a prominent personage--one