the big things for. I can be the best friend in the
world, but only to those who show that they care for me, and do what
they know I'll like. I don't want toadies about me, but I do want people
who feel bound to me, and are as keen about me and my feelings and
interests as they are about their own."

"It is delightfully feudal--all this," commented the nobleman, smilingly
addressing the remark to nobody in particular. Then he looked at Thorpe.
"Let me be one of them--one of the people you speak of," he said, with
directness.

Thorpe returned his look with the good-natured beginnings of a grin.
"But what would you be good for?" he queried, in a bantering tone.
"People I have about me have to be of some use. They require to have
heads on their shoulders. Why--just think what you've done. I don't mean
so much about your letting Tavender slip through your fingers--although
that was about the worst I ever heard of. But here in this room, at
that desk there, you allowed me to bounce you into writing and signing
a paper which you ought to have had your hand cut off rather than write,
much less sign. You come here trying to work the most difficult and
dangerous kind of a bluff,--knowing all the while that the witness you
depended entirely upon had disappeared, you hadn't the remotest idea
where,--and you actually let me lead you into giving me your signature
to your own declaration that you are blackmailing me! Thinking it all
over--you know--I can't see that you would be of much help to me in the
City."

Lord Plowden joined perforce in the laughter with which the big man
enjoyed his own pleasantry. His mirth had some superficial signs of
shamefacedness, but it was hopeful underneath. "The City!" he echoed,
with meaning. "That's the curse of it. What do I know about the City?
What business have I in the City? As you said, I'm the amateur. A strong
man like you can make me seem any kind of a ridiculous fool he likes,
with the turn of his hand. I see that right enough. But what am I to do?
I have to make a shot at something. I'm so rotten poor!"

Thorpe had retired again behind the barrier of dull-eyed abstraction. He
seemed not to have heard this appealing explanation.

The other preserved silence in turn, and even made a pretence of looking
at some pamphlets on the table, as a token of his boundless deference to
the master's mood.

"I don't know. I'll see," the big man muttered at last, doubtfully.

Lord Plowden felt wa