stood up. "You transacted the business with her, and you must break to
her what I have already done, but what I fear she fails to believe,
that the purchase cannot possibly go on. It will not be in my power,
Acland, to complete it, even if I should be alive at the time."

"I know another man only too anxious to purchase," said Acland; "but I
am deeply sorry for you--your child so ill, your own mission to
Queensland a failure."

"Yes, quite a failure. I won't detain you any longer now. I may need
your services again presently."

Ogilvie went from the lawyer's house straight to his own in Belgrave
Square. It was in the hands of a caretaker. A seedy-looking man in a
rusty black coat opened the door. He did not know Ogilvie.

"I am the master," said Ogilvie; "let me in, please."

The man stood aside.

"Has a telegram come for me?"

"Yes, sir, five minutes ago."

Ogilvie tore it open, and read the contents.

"Meeting of directors at one o'clock to-morrow, at Cannon
Street Hotel. Not necessary for you to be present unless you
wish. GRAYLEIGH."

Ogilvie crushed up the telegram, and turned to the man.

"I shall sleep here to-night," Ogilvie said, "and shall be back in the
course of the evening."

He then went to his bank. It was within half-an-hour of closing. He
saw one of the managers who happened to be a friend of his. The
manager welcomed him back with effusion, and then made the usual
remark about his changed appearance.

Ogilvie put his troublesome questions aside.

"I had an interview with you just before I went to Queensland," he
said, "and I then placed, with a special note for your instructions
in case anything happened to me, a sum of money in the bank."

"A large sum, Ogilvie--ten thousand pounds."

"Yes, ten thousand pounds," repeated Ogilvie. "I want to withdraw the
money."

"It is a considerable sum to withdraw at once, but as it is not on
deposit you can have it."

"I thought it only fair to give you a few hours' notice. I shall call
for it to-morrow about ten o'clock."

"Do you wish to take it in a cheque?"

"I think not, I should prefer notes." Ogilvie added a few more words,
and then went back to his own house.

At last everything was in train. He uttered a sigh of relief. The
house looked gloomy and dismantled, but for that very reason it suited
his feelings. Some of the furniture had been removed to Silverbel, and
the place was dusty. His study in particular looked