people might find out--profits might have to be divided--so all you can
do is to sit in a circle waiting--waiting--like a dog with a biscuit on
its nose for the words 'Paid for, paid for.'"

And having emptied out her soul's measure of resentment she threw
herself onto the sofa and sobbed and sobbed with her curly head in Mr.
Torrington's lap.

No one spoke, not even when Doran came in and whispered that Van Diest
and Hipps had arrived and demanded audience. It was Cranbourne who
came forward and picking her up in his arms like an injured child
carried her into the other room and laid her on Barraclough's bed.

"We haven't lost yet, my dear," he said, and stroked her forehead.

He left her crying gently on the pillow, her little pink cheeks all
shiny with tears.

Mr. Torrington waited for Cranbourne to return before giving Doran
instructions to show in the gentlemen. To Cassis' unspoken protest he
replied:

"They evidently have some information which we lack. It would be wise
to find out what it is."

Ezra P. Hipps was first to enter. He came in like a triumphant army
occupying captured territory. Close upon his heels was Hugo Van Diest,
smiling ingratiatingly and bowing to the company. Hilbert Torrington
rose and returned the courtesy.

"An unexpected pleasure, gentlemen. And what precisely do you want?"

"I guess it's a talk to the man who shoots the bull in the ring," Hipps
replied, and added: "That substitute trick has exploded and the chap
who pulled it has done a guy."

Mr. Torrington and Cranbourne exchanged glances.

"Am I to understand that Mr. Frencham Altar has found your hospitality
too oppressive?" he asked.

"Put it how you like, but that's a side show," came the answer. "We're
here on business."

Nugent Cassis had recovered some of his self-possession and remarked
crisply:

"We are very busy, Mr. Hipps."

"And since the light came into the temple, Nugent Cassis, we've been
busy ourselves. Struck me one or two little matters need adjusting."

"Your treatment of the substitute for example," said Cranbourne.

"Not unlikely, but that job'll keep, and it's in hand already under
Laurence."

"Dear me, we are being very frank, are we not?" murmured Mr. Torrington.

"Gentlemen, it's come to our ears that a certain Mr. Barraclough is
taking grave risks tonight to get home."

Cranbourne flashed an eye at the bedroom door. "Go on!" he said.
"Talk straight, man."

Hilbert Torringt