, and in strict disaccordance
with the views of the _Gleaner_, that these thousands should be locked
up for one man's pleasure, while starvation levied its toll upon the
many. Moreover, he nurtured a temperamental distaste for the whole
Semitic race--a Western resentment of that insidious Eastern power.

Crofter looked surprised, and clearly thought his friend's remark in
rather bad taste. Sir Leopold faced round abruptly, and a hard look
crept into his small bright eyes.

"Mr. Sheard," he said harshly. "I began life as a pauper. What I have, I
have worked for."

"You have enjoyed excellent health."

"I admit it."

"Had you, in those days of early poverty, been smitten down with
sickness, of what use to you would your admittedly fine commercial
capacity have been? You would then, only too gladly, have availed
yourself of such an institution as the Sladen Hospital, for instance."

Sir Leopold started.

"What have you to do with the Sladen Hospital?"

"Nothing. It has accomplished great work in the past."

"Do you know anything of _this_?"

Jesson's manner became truculent. He pulled some papers from his pocket,
and selecting a plain correspondence card, handed it to Sheard.

The card bore no address, being headed simply: "Final appeal." It read:

"Your cheque toward the re-opening of the Out-Patient's Wing of
Sladen Hospital has not been forwarded."

Sheard failed to recognise the writing, and handed the card back,
shaking his head.

"Oh!" said Jesson suspiciously; "because I've had three of these
anonymous applications--and they don't come from the hospital
authorities."

"Why not comply?" asked Sheard. "Let me announce in the _Gleaner_ that
you have generously subscribed ten thousand pounds."

"_What!_" rapped Sir Leopold. "Do you take me for a fool?" He glared
angrily. "Before we go any farther, sir--is this touting business the
real object of your visit?"

The pressman flushed. His conduct, he knew well, was irreconcilable with
good form; but Jesson's tone had become grossly offensive. Something
about the man repelled Sheard's naturally generous instincts, and no
shade of compunction remained. A score of times, during the past quarter
of an hour, he had all but determined to throw up this unsavoury affair
and to let Severac Bablon do with him as he would. Now, he stifled all
scruples and was glad that the task had been required of him. He would
shirk no more, but would go through with