wrong, boss?"

The newcomer raised his hand as though to strike Skinner. He gnashed his
teeth with the effort to control himself.

"You damned blithering idiot," he said hoarsely, gripping the side of
the table. "Why wasn't it presented to me first?"

"Guess it didn't seem worth while," Skinner answered. "There's nothing
in the darned thing."

"You ignorant fool, hold your tongue," was the fierce reply.

The newcomer sank into a chair and wiped the perspiration from his
streaming forehead. Mr. Sabin signaled to a waiter.

"You seem upset, Mr. Horser," he remarked politely. "Allow me to offer
you a glass of wine."

Mr. Horser did not immediately reply, but he accepted the glass which
the waiter brought him, and after a moment's hesitation drained its
contents. Then he turned to Mr. Sabin.

"You said nothing about those letters you had had when you came to see
me this morning!"

"It was you yourself," Mr. Sabin reminded him, "who begged me not
to enter into particulars. You sent me on to Mr. Skinner. I told him
everything."

Mr. Horser leaned over the table. His eyes were bloodshot, his tone was
fierce and threatening. Mr. Sabin was coldly courteous. The difference
between the demeanour of the two men was remarkable.

"You knew what those letters meant! This is a plot! Where is Skinner's
report?"

Mr. Sabin raised his eyebrows. He signaled to the head-waiter.

"Be so good as to continue the service of my dinner," he ordered. "The
champagne is a trifle too chilled. You can take it out of the cooler."

The man bowed, with a curious side glance at Horser.

"Certainly, your Grace!"

Horser was almost speechless with anger.

"Are you going to answer my questions?" he demanded thickly.

"I have no particular objection to doing so," Mr. Sabin answered, "but
until you can sit up and compose yourself like an ordinary individual, I
decline to enter into any conversation with you at all."

Again Mr. Horser raised his voice, and the glare in his eyes was like
the glare of a wild beast.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

Mr. Sabin looked at him coolly, and fingered his wineglass.

"Well," he said, "I've a shocking memory for names, but yours is--Mr.
Horser, isn't it? I heard it for the first time this morning, and my
memory will generally carry me through four-and-twenty hours."

There was a moment's silence. Horser was no fool. He accepted his defeat
and dropped the