stantiate," Phipps
declared irritably. "It is simply Stock Exchange gossip."

"For once, then," Wingate went on, "Stock Exchange gossip is the truth."

"My dear Mr. Wingate," Phipps expostulated, "if you will discuss this
matter, I beg that you will do so as a business man and not as a
sentimentalist. Yon know perfectly well that as long as the principles of
barter exist, there must be a loser and a gainer."

"The ordinary principles of barter," Wingate contended, "do not apply to
material from which the people's food is made. I speak to you as man to
man. You have started an enterprise of which I and others declare
ourselves the avowed enemies. I am here to warn you, both of you," he
added, including Lord Dredlinton with a sweep of his hand, "directors of
the British and Imperial Granaries, that unless you release and compel
your agents to release such stocks of wheat as will bring bread down to a
reasonable price, you stand in personal danger. Is that clear enough?"

"Clear enough," Dredlinton muttered, "but what the mischief does it
all mean?"

"You threaten us?" Phipps asked calmly.

"I do indeed," Wingate assented. "I threaten you. I threaten you. Peter
Phipps, you, Lord Dredlinton, and I threaten your absent directors. I
came over here prepared for something in the nature of a financial duel.
I came prepared to match my millions and my brain against yours. I find
no inducement to do so. The struggle is uninspiring. My efforts would
only prolong it. Quicker means must be found to deal with you."

"You are misled as to your facts, Mr. Wingate," Phipps expostulated. "I
can assure you that we are conducting a perfectly legitimate undertaking.
We have kept all the time well within the law."

"You may be within the law of the moment," was the stern reply, "but
morally you are worse than the most outrageous bucket-shop keepers of
Wall Street. Legislation may be slow and Parliament hampered by
precedent, but the people have never wanted champions when they have a
righteous cause. I tell you that you cannot carry this thing through.
Better disgorge your profits and sell while you have a chance."

Dredlinton tapped a cigarette against his desk and lit it.

"My dear fellow," he said, "you really ought to go into Parliament. Such
eloquence is rather wasted in a City office."

"I rather imagined that it would be," Wingate assented. "At the same
time, I warned you that if I came I should speak my mind."

Phipps did