on from
Professor Maturin. I was against it. Maturin's absurdly pessimistic."

"He's a great man, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so,--he's got a great reputation anyhow."

"And he's against you?"

"The fact is that his is only--only a draft report. So far as it goes,
it's not encouraging, but he's never had the facts really laid before
him."

"You'd better go and lay them before him," she said very gravely.

Quisante caught eagerly at the suggestion.

"Exactly what I proposed to Mandeville!" he cried. "The prospectus won't
be out for nearly a month yet, and I shall go and see Maturin. I
know----" He rose and began to walk about. "I know Maturin is wrong, and
I know that I can show him he's wrong. I only want an hour with him to
bring him round to my view, to the true view."

"Well, why haven't you been to see him?"

"I tried to go, but he's ill and not equal to business. As soon as he
gets better I shall go. To put his report in as it stands would not only
do us infinite harm--in fact we couldn't think of it--but it wouldn't be
just to him."

"But if he won't change his opinion?"

"Oh, he must, he will. I tell you it's as plain as a pikestaff, when once
it's properly explained."

"I'm sure you'll be able to convert him, if anyone can," said May
soothingly.

"I must," said Quisante briefly, and sat down to his papers again.

For an hour or two he worked steadily, without a pause, without an
apparent hesitation. That fine machine of his was ploughing its straight
unfaltering way through details previously unfamiliar and through
problems which he had never studied. From five to seven she sat with a
book in her hands, feigning to read, really watching her husband. He
could not fail, she said to herself; he would make the Alethea Printing
Press a success, irrespective of the actual merits of it. Was that
possible? It seemed almost possible as she looked at him.

"It's bound to go," he said at last, pushing away the papers. "I'm primed
now, and I can convince old Maturin in half an hour." He held up the
Professor's report. "He must withdraw this and give us another."

Alas, there are things before which even will and energy and brains must
bow. As he spoke the servant came in, bringing the _Evening Standard_.
May took it, glanced at the middle page, and then, with a little start,
looked across at her husband. He saw her glance. "Any news?" he asked.

"The Professor can't be convinced," she said. "His ill