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Bones in London

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CHAPTER XII
BONES HITS BACK

It may be said of Bones that he was in the City, but not of it. Neveronce had he been invited by the great and awe-inspiring men whodominate the finance of the City to participate in any of thoseadventurous undertakings which produce for the adventurers the fabulousprofits about which so much has been written. There were times whenBones even doubted whether the City knew he was in it.

He never realised his own insignificance so poignantly as when hestrolled through the City streets at their busiest hour, and wasunrecognised even by the bareheaded clerks who dashed madly in alldirections, carrying papers of tremendous importance.

The indifference of the City to Mr. Tibbetts and his partner was moreapparent than real. It is true that the great men who sit around thegreen baize cloth at the Bank of England and arrange the bank rate knewnot Bones nor his work. It is equally true that the very importantpersonages who occupy suites of rooms in Lombard Street had little orno idea of his existence. But there were men, and rich and famous menat that, who had inscribed the name of Bones in indelible ink on thetablets of their memory.

The Pole Brothers were shipbrokers, and had little in common, in theirdaily transactions, with Mr. Harold de Vinne, who specialised inindustrial stocks, and knew little more about ships than could belearnt in an annual holiday trip to Madeira. Practically there was nobridge to connect their intellects. Sentimentally, life held a commoncause, which they discovered one day, when Mr. Fred Pole met Mr. Haroldde Vinne at lunch to discuss a matter belonging neither to the realmsof industrialism nor the mercantile marine, being, in fact, thequestion of Mr. de Vinne leasing or renting Mr. Pole's handsomeriverside property at Maidenhead for the term of six months.

They might not have met even under these circumstances, but for thefact that some dispute arose as to who was to pay the gardener. Thatmatter had been amicably settled, and the two had reached the coffeestage of their luncheon, when Mr. de Vinne mentioned theinadvisability – as a rule – of discussing business matters at lunch, andcited a deplorable happening when an interested eavesdropper hadoverheard certain important negotiations and had most unscrupulouslytaken advantage of his discovery.

"One of these days," said Mr. de Vinne between his teeth, "I'll be evenwith that gentleman." (He did not call him a gentleman.) "I'll givehim Tibbetts! He'll be sorry he was ever born."

"Tibbetts?" said Mr. Fred Pole, sitting bolt upright. "Not Bones?"

The other nodded and seemed surprised.

"You don't know the dear fellow, do you?" he asked, only he did not usethe expression "dear fellow."

"Know him?" said Mr. Fred, taking a long breath. "I should jolly wellsay I did know him. And my brother Joe knows him. That fellow – "

"That fellow – " began Mr. de Vinne, and for several minutes theytalked together in terms which were uncomplimentary to AugustusTibbetts.

It appeared, though they did not put the matter so crudely, that theyhad both been engaged in schemes for robbing Bones, and that in thepursuance of their laudable plans they had found themselves robbed byBones.

Mr. de Vinne ordered another coffee and prepared to make an afternoonof it. They discussed Bones from several aspects and in variouslights, none of which revealed his moral complexion at its best.

"And believe me," said Mr. de Vinne at the conclusion of his addressfor the prosecution, "there's money to be made out of that fellow.Why, I believe he has three hundred thousand pounds."

"Three hundred and forty thousand," said the more accurate Mr. Fred.

"A smart man could get it all," said Harold de Vinne, with conviction."And when I say a smart man, I mean two smart men. I never thoughtthat he had done anybody but me. It's funny I never heard of yourcase," he said. "He must have got the best of you in the early days."

Mr. Fred nodded.

"I was his first" – he swallowed hard and added – "mug!"

Mr. de Vinne pulled thoughtfully at his black cigar and eyed theceiling of the restaurant absent-mindedly.

"There's nobody in the City who knows more about Tibbetts than me," hesaid. He was weak on the classical side, but rather strong onmathematics. "I've watched every transaction he's been in, and I thinkI have got him down fine."

"Mind you," said Fred, "I think he's clever."

"Clever!" said the other scornfully. "Clever! He's lucky, my dearchap. Things have just fallen into his lap. It's mug's luck that manhas had."

Mr. Fred nodded. It was an opinion which he himself had held andruminated upon.

"It is luck – sheer luck," continued Mr. de Vinne. "And if we'd beenclever, we'd have cleaned him. We'll clean him yet," he said, strokinghis chin more thoughtfully than ever, "but it's got to be donesystematically."

Mr. Fred was interested. The possibility of relieving afellow-creature of his superfluous wealth by legitimate means, andunder the laws and rules which govern the legal transfer of property, was the absorbing interest of his life.

"It has got to be done cleverly, scientifically, and systematically,"said Mr. de Vinne, "and there's no sense in jumping to a plan. What doyou say to taking a bit of dinner with me at the Ritz-Carlton onFriday?"

Mr. Fred was very agreeable.

"I'll tell you the strength of Bones," said de Vinne, as they left therestaurant. "He was an officer on the West Coast of Africa. His bosswas a man named Sanders, who's left the Service and lives atTwickenham. From what I can hear, this chap Tibbetts worships theground that Sanders walks on. Evidently Sanders was a big bug in WestAfrica."

On Friday they resumed their conversation, and Mr. de Vinne arrivedwith a plan. It was a good plan. He was tremulous with pride at thethought of it, and demanded applause and approval with every secondbreath, which was unlike him.

He was a man of many companies, good, bad, and indifferent, and, reviewing the enterprises with which his name was associated, he had, without the slightest difficulty, placed his finger upon the leastprofitable and certainly the most hopeless proposition in the MazeppaTrading Company. And nothing could be better for Mr. de Vinne'spurpose, not, as he explained to Fred Pole, if he had searched theStock Exchange Year Book from cover to cover.

Once upon a time the Mazeppa Trading Company had been a profitableconcern. Its trading stores had dotted the African hinterland thickly.It had exported vast quantities of Manchester goods and Birminghamjunk, and had received in exchange unlimited quantities of rubber andivory. But those were in the bad old days, before authority came andtaught the aboriginal natives the exact value of a sixpennylooking-glass.

No longer was it possible to barter twenty pounds' worth of ivory forthreepennyworth of beads, and the flourishing Mazeppa Trading Companylanguished and died. Its managers had grown immensely wealthy fromtheir peculations and private trading, and had come home and wereoccupying opulent villas at Wimbledon, whilst the new men who had beensent to take their places had been so inexperienced that profits fellto nothing. That, in brief, was the history of the Mazeppa TradingCompany, which still maintained a few dilapidated stores, managed byhalf-castes and poor whites.

"I got most of the shares for a song," confessed Mr. de Vinne. "Infact, I happen to be one of the debenture-holders, and stepped in whenthings were going groggy. We've been on the point of winding it up – itis grossly over-capitalised – but I kept it going in the hope thatsomething would turn up."

"What is the general idea?" asked Mr. Fred Pole, interested.

"We'll get a managing director," said Mr. de Vinne solemnly. "A manwho is used to the handling of natives, a man acquainted with the WestCoast of Africa, a man who can organise."

"Bones?" suggested Mr. Fred.

"Bones be – jiggered!" replied de Vinne scornfully. "Do you think he'dfall for that sort of thing? Not on your life! We're not going tomention it to Bones. But he has a pal – Sanders; you've heard of him.He's a commissioner or something on the West Coast, and retired. Now,my experience of a chap of that kind who retires is that he gets sickto death of doing nothing. If we could only get at him and persuadehim to accept the managing directorship, with six months a year on theCoast, at a salary of, say, two thousand a year, conditional on takingup six or seven thousand pounds' worth of shares, what do you thinkwould happen?"

Mr. Fred's imagination baulked at the problem, and he shook his head.

"I'll tell you what would happen," said Mr. de Vinne. "It happenedonce before, when another pal of Bones got let in on a motor carcompany. Bones fell over himself to buy the shares and control thecompany. And, mind you, the Mazeppa looks good. It's the sort ofproposition that would appeal to a young and energetic man. It's oneof those bogy companies that seem possible, and a fellow who knows theropes would say straight away: 'If I had charge of that, I'd make itpay.' That's what I'm banking on."

"What are the shares worth?" said Fred.

"About twopence net," replied the other brutally. "I'll tell youfrankly that I'd run this business myself if I thought there was anychance of my succeeding. But if Bones finds all the shares in onehand, he's going to shy. What I'm prepared to do is this. Theseshares are worth twopence. I'm going to sell you and a few friendsparcels at a shilling a share. If nothing happens, I'll undertake tobuy them back at the same price."

A week later Hamilton brought news to the office of Tibbetts and

Hamilton, Limited.

"The chief is going back to the Coast."

 

Bones opened his mouth wide in astonishment.

"Back to the Coast?" he said incredulously. "You don't mean he'schucking jolly old Twickenham?"

Hamilton nodded.

"He's had an excellent offer from some people in the City to control atrading company. By the way, did you ever hear of the MazeppaCompany?" Bones shook his head.

"I've heard of Mazeppa," he said. "He was the naughty old gentlemanwho rode through the streets of Birmingham without any clothes."

Hamilton groaned.

"If I had your knowledge of history," he said despairingly, "I'd starta bone factory. You're thinking of Lady Godiva, but that doesn'tmatter. No, I don't suppose you've heard of the Mazeppa Company; itdid not operate in our territory."

Bones shook his head and pursed his lips.

"But surely," he said, "dear old Excellency hasn't accepted a jobwithout consulting me?"

Hamilton made derisive noises.

"He fixed it up in a couple of days," he said, after a while. "Itdoesn't mean he'll be living on the Coast, but he'll probably be therefor some months in the year. The salary is good – in fact, it's twothousand a year. I believe Sanders has to qualify for directorship bytaking some shares, but the dear chap is enthusiastic about it, and sois Patricia. It is all right, of course. Sanders got the offerthrough a firm of solicitors."

"Pooh!" said Bones. "Solicitors are nobody."

He learnt more about the company that afternoon, for Sanders called inand gave a somewhat roseate view of the future.

"The fact is, Bones, I am getting stale," he said, "and this looks likean excellent and a profitable occupation."

"How did you get to hear about it, Excellency?". asked Bones.

His attitude was one of undisguised antagonism. He might have been alittle resentful that the opportunity had come to Sanders through anyother agency than his own.

"I had a letter from the solicitors asking me if the idea appealed tome, and recalling my services on the Coast," said Sanders. "Of courseI know very little about the Mazeppa Trading Company, though I hadheard of it years gone past as a very profitable concern. Thesolicitors were quite frank, and told me that business had fallen off, due to inexperienced management. They pointed out the opportunitieswhich existed – the possibilities of opening new stations – and I mustconfess that it appealed to me. It will mean hard work, but the salaryis good."

"Hold hard, Sir and Excellency," said Bones. "What did you have to putup in the way of shares?"

Sanders flushed. He was a shy man, and not given to talking about hismoney affairs.

"Oh, about five thousand pounds," he said awkwardly. "Of course, it'sa lot of money; but even if the business isn't successful, I have afive-year contract with the company, and I get more than my investmentback in salary."

That night Bones stayed on after Hamilton had left, and had forcompanion Miss Marguerite Whitland, a lady in whose judgment he had amost embarrassing faith. He had given her plenty of work to do, andthe rhythmical tap-tap of her typewriter came faintly through the doorwhich separated the outer from the inner office.

Bones sat at his desk, his chin in his hand, a very thoughtful youngman, and before him was a copy of the latest evening newspaper, openedat the Stock Exchange page. There had been certain significantmovements in industrial shares – a movement so interesting to thecommentator upon Stock Exchange doings that he had inserted a paragraphto the effect that:

"The feature of the industrial market was the firmness of MazeppaTrading shares, for which there was a steady demand, the stock closingat 19_s_. 9_d_. Mazeppa shares have not been dealt in within the Housefor many years, and, in fact, it was generally believed that theCompany was going into liquidation, and the shares could be had for theprice of the paper on which they were printed. It is rumoured in theCity that the Company is to be reconstructed, and that a considerableamount of new capital has been found, with the object of expanding itsexisting business."

Bones read the paragraph many times, and at the conclusion of eachreading returned to his reverie. Presently he rose and strolled intothe office of his secretary, and the girl looked up with a smile asBones seated himself on the edge of her table.

"Young miss," he said soberly, "do you ever hear anybody talking aboutme in this jolly old City?"

"Why, yes," she said in surprise.

"Fearfully complimentarily, dear old miss?" asked Bones carelessly, andthe girl's colour deepened.

"I don't think it matters what people say about one, do you?"

"It doesn't matter to me," said Bones, "so long as one lovely oldtypewriter has a good word for poor old Bones." He laid his hand uponhers, and she suffered it to remain there without protest. "They thinkI'm a silly old ass, don't they?"

"Oh, no," she said quickly, "they don't think that. They say you'rerather unconventional."

"Same thing," said Bones. "Anybody who's unconventional in business isa silly old ass."

He squeezed the hand under his, and again she did not protest orwithdraw it from his somewhat clammy grip.

"Dear old darling – " began Bones, but she stopped him with a warningfinger.

"Dear old typewriter," said Bones, unabashed, but obedient, "supposesomething happened to the clever old Johnny who presides over thisoffice – the brains of the department, if I may be allowed to say so?"

"Captain Hamilton?" said the girl in surprise.

"No, me," said Bones, annoyed. "Gracious Heavens, dear old key-tapper, didn't I say me?"

"Something happen to you?" she said in alarm. "Why, what could happento you?"

"Suppose I went broke?" said Bones, with the comfortable air of one whowas very unlikely to go broke. "Suppose I had terrific and tremendousand cataclysmic and what's-the-other-word losses?"

"But you're not likely to have those, are you?" she asked.

"Not really," said Bones, "but suppose?"

She saw that, for once, when he was speaking to her, his mind waselsewhere, and withdrew her hand. It was a fact that Bones did notseem to notice the withdrawal.

"Poor old Bones, poor old mug!" said Bones softly. "I'm a funny olddevil."

The girl laughed.

"I don't know what you're thinking about," she said, "but you neverstrike me as being particularly funny, or poor, or old, for the matterof that," she added demurely.

Bones stooped down from the table and laid his big hand on her head, rumpling her hair as he might have done to a child.

"You're a dear old Marguerite," he said softly, "and I'm not such aditherer as you think. Now, you watch old Bones." And, with thatcryptic remark, he stalked back to his desk.

Two days after this he surprised Hamilton.

"I'm expecting a visitor to-day, old Ham," he said. "A Johnny named de

Vinne."

"De Vinne?" frowned Hamilton. "I seem to know that name. Isn't he thegentleman you had the trouble with over the boots?"

"That's the jolly old robber," said Bones cheerfully. "I'vetelegraphed and asked him to come to see me."

"About what?" demanded Hamilton.

"About two o'clock," said Bones. "You can stay and see your old friendthrough, or you can let us have it out with the lad in camera."

"I'll stay," said Hamilton. "But I don't think he'll come."

"I do," said Bones confidently, and he was justified in his confidence, for at two o'clock to the second Mr. de Vinne appeared.

He was bright and cheerful, even genial to Bones, and Bones was almosteffusive in his welcome.

"Sit down there in the most comfortable chair, happy old financier," hesaid, "and open your young heart to old Bones about the Mazeppa TradingCompany."

Mr. de Vinne did not expect so direct an attack, but recovered from hissurprise without any apparent effort.

"Oh, so you know I was behind that, do you? How the dickens did youfind out?"

"Stock Exchange Year Book, dear old thing. Costs umpteen and sixpence, and you can find out everything you want to know about the directors ofcompanies," said Bones.

"By Jove! That's clever of you," said de Vinne, secretly amused, forit was from the Year Book that he expected Bones to make the discovery.

"Now, what's the game, old financial gentleman?" asked Bones. "Whythis fabulous salary to friend Sanders and selling this thousands ofpounds worth of shares, eh?"

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"My dear chap, it's a business transaction. And really, if I thoughtyou were going to interrogate me on that, I shouldn't have come. IsMr. Sanders a friend of yours?" he asked innocently.

"Shurrup!" said Bones vulgarly. "You know jolly well he's a friend ofmine. Now, what is the idea, young company promoter?"

"It's pretty obvious," replied de Vinne, taking the expensive cigarwhich Bones had imported into the office for the purpose. "Theposition is a good one – "

"Half a mo'," said Bones. "Do you personally guarantee Mr. Sanders'ssalary for five years?"

The other laughed.

"Of course not. It is a company matter," he said, "and I shouldcertainly not offer a personal guarantee for the payment of any salary."

"So that, if the company goes bust in six months' time, Mr. Sandersloses all the money he has invested and his salary?"

The other raised his shoulders again with a deprecating smile.

"He would, of course, have a claim against the company for his salary,"he said.

"A fat lot of good that would be!" answered Bones.

"Now, look here, Mr. Tibbetts" – the other leaned confidentiallyforward, his unlighted cigar between his teeth – "there is no reason inthe world why the Mazeppa Company shouldn't make a fortune for theright man. All it wants is new blood and capable direction. Iconfess," he admitted, "that I have not the time to give to thecompany, otherwise I'd guarantee a seven per cent. dividend on theshare capital. Why, look at the price of them to-day – "

Bones stopped him.

"Any fool can get the shares up to any price he likes, if they're allheld in one hand," he said.

"What?" said the outraged Mr. de Vinne. "Do you suggest I have riggedthe market? Besides, they're not all in one hand. They're prettyevenly distributed."

"Who holds 'em?" asked Bones curiously.

"Well, I've got a parcel, and Pole Brothers have a parcel."

"Pole Brothers, eh?" said Bones, nodding. "Well, well!"

"Come, now, be reasonable. Don't be suspicious, Mr. Tibbetts," saidthe other genially. "Your friend's interests are all right, and theshareholders' interests are all right. You might do worse than getcontrol of the company yourself."

Bones nodded.

"I was thinking of that," he said.

"I assure you," said Mr. de Vinne with great earnestness, "that thepossibilities of the Mazeppa Trading Company are unlimited. We haveconcessions from the Great River to the north of the Frenchterritory – "

"Not worth the paper they're written on, dear old kidder," said Bones, shaking his head. "Chiefs' concessions without endorsement from theColonial Office are no good, dear old thing."

"But the trading concessions are all right," insisted the other. "Youcan't deny that. You understand the Coast customs better than I do.Trading customs hold without endorsement from the Colonial Office."

Bones had to admit that that was a fact.

"I'll think it over," he said. "It appeals to me, old de Vinne. Itreally does appeal to me. Who own the shares?"

"I can give you a list," said Mr. de Vinne, with admirable calm, "andyou'd be well advised to negotiate privately with these gentlemen.You'd probably get the shares for eighteen shillings." He took a goldpencil from his pocket and wrote rapidly a list of names, and Bonestook the paper from his hand and scrutinised them.

Hamilton, a silent and an amazed spectator of the proceedings, waiteduntil de Vinne had gone, and then fell upon his partner.

"You're not going to be such a perfect jackass – " he began, but

Bones's dignified gesture arrested his eloquence.

"Dear old Ham," he said, "senior partner, dear old thing! Let old

Bones have his joke."

"Do you realise," said Hamilton, "that you are contemplating the riskof a quarter of a million? You're mad, Bones!"

Bones grinned.

"Go down to our broker and buy ten thousand shares in old Mazeppa,Ham," he said. "You'll buy them on the market for nineteen shillings, and I've an idea that they're worth about the nineteenth part of afarthing."

"But – " stammered Hamilton.

"It is an order," said Bones, and he spoke in the Bomongo tongue.

"Phew!" said Hamilton. "That carries me a few thousand miles. Iwonder what those devils of the N'gombi are doing now?"

 

"I'll tell you something they're not doing," said Bones. "They're notbuying Mazeppa shares."

There were two very deeply troubled people in the office of Tibbettsand Hamilton. One was Hamilton himself, and the other was MissMarguerite Whitland. Hamilton had two causes for worry. The first andthe least was the strange extravagance of Bones. The second – and thiswas more serious – was the prospect of breaking to Sanders that nightthat he had been swindled, for swindled he undoubtedly was. Hamiltonhad spent a feverish hour canvassing City opinion on the MazeppaTrading Company, and the report he had had was not encouraging. Hehad, much against his will, carried out the instructions of Bones, andhad purchased in the open market ten thousand shares in the Company – atransaction duly noted by Mr. de Vinne and his interested partner.

"He is biting," said that exultant man over the 'phone. "All we haveto do is to sit steady, and he'll swallow the hook!"

It was impossible that Marguerite Whitland should not know the extentof her employer's commitments. She was a shrewd girl, and had acquireda very fair working knowledge of City affairs during the period of heremployment. She had, too, an instinct for a swindle, and she waspanic-stricken at the thought that Bones was marching headlong tofinancial disaster. Hamilton had gone home to his disagreeable task, when the girl came from her office and stood, her hands clasped behindher, before the desk of the senior partner.

Bones peered up in his short-sighted way.

"Well, young miss?" he said quietly.

"Mr. Tibbetts," she began a little unsteadily, "I'm going to be veryimpertinent."

"Not at all," murmured Bones.

"I've been with you for some time now," said the girl, speakingrapidly, "and I feel that I have a better right to talk to youthan – than – "

"Than anybody in the whole wide world," said Bones, "and that's a fact, dear young Marguerite."

"Yes, yes," she said hurriedly, "but this is something about business, and about – about this deal which you're going into. I've been talkingto Captain Hamilton this afternoon, while you were out, and I know it'sa swindle."

"I know that, too," said Bones calmly.

"But," said the puzzled girl, "you are putting all your money into it.

Mr. Hamilton said that, if this failed, you might be ruined."

Bones nodded. Outwardly calm, the light of battle shone in his eye.

"It's a gamble, dear young typewriter," he said, "a terrific gamble, but it's going to turn out all right for did Bones."

"But Mr. Hamilton said you can't possibly make anything from theproperty – that it is derelict and worth practically nothing. Only atenth of the stores are open, and the trading is – "

Bones smiled.

"I'm not gambling on the property," he said softly. "Oh, dear, no, young fiancée, I'm not gambling on the property."

"Then what on earth are you gambling on?" she asked, a little piqued.

"On me," said Bones in the same tone. "On poor old silly ass Bones, and I'm coming through!"

He got up and came across to her and laid his big hand on her shouldergently.

"If I don't come through, I shan't be a beggar. I shall have enough tobuild a jolly little place, where we can raise cows and horses andvegetables of all descriptions, dear old typewriter. And if I do comethrough, we'll still have that same place – only perhaps we'll have morecows and a pig or two."

She laughed, and he raised her smiling lips to his and kissed them.

Mr. de Vinne had dined well and had enjoyed an evening's amusement. Hehad been to the Hippodrome, and his enjoyment had been made the morepiquant by the knowledge that Mr. Augustus Tibbetts had as good asplaced ten thousand pounds in his pocket. He was a surprised man, onreturning to Sloane Square, to discover, waiting in the hall, hisunwilling benefactor.

"Why, Mr. Tibbetts," he said, "this is a great surprise."

"Yes," said Bones, "I suppose it is, old Mr. de Vinne." And he coughedsolemnly, as one who was the guardian of a great secret.

"Come in," said Mr. de Vinne, more genial than ever. "This is mylittle den" – indicating a den which the most fastidious of lions wouldnot have despised. "Sit down and have a cigar, old man. Now, whatbrings you here to-night?"

"The shares," said Bones soberly. "I've been worrying about theshares."

"Ah, yes," said Mr. de Vinne carelessly. "Why worry about them, dearboy?"

"Well, I thought I might lose the opportunity of buying them. I think there's something to be made out of that property. In fact," said

Bones emphatically, "I'm pretty certain I could make a lot of money if

I had control."

"I agree with you," said the earnest Mr. de Vinne.

"Now the point is," said Bones, "I've been studying that list of yours, and it seems to me that the majority of the two hundred and fiftythousand shares issued are either held by you or by one of thePoles – jolly old Joe or jolly old Fred, I don't know which."

"Jolly old Fred," said Mr. de Vinne gravely.

"Now, if there's one person I don't want to meet to-night, orto-morrow, or any other day," said Bones, "it's Pole."

"There's no need for you to meet him," smiled de Vinne.

"In fact," said Bones, with sudden ferocity, "I absolutely refuse tobuy any shares from Fred. I'll buy yours, but I will not buy a singleone from Fred."

Mr. De Vinne thought rapidly.

"There's really no reason," he said carelessly. "As a matter of fact,I took over Fred's shares to-night, or the majority of them. I can letyou have – let me see" – he made a rapid calculation – "I can let you havea hundred and eighty thousand shares at nineteen and nine."

"Eighteen shillings," said Bones firmly, "and not a penny more."

They wrangled about the price for five minutes, and then, in anoutburst of generosity, Mr. de Vinne agreed.

"Eighteen shillings it shall be. You're a hard devil," he said. "Now, shall we settle this in the morning?"

"Settle it now," said Bones. "I've a contract note and a cheque book."

De Vinne thought a moment.

"Why, sure!" he said. "Let's have your note."

Bones took a note from his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on thetable, then solemnly seated himself at Mr. de Vinne's desk and wroteout the cheque.

His good fortune was more than Mr. de Vinne could believe. He hadexpected Bones to be easy, but not so easy as this.

"Good-bye," said Bones. He was solemn, even funereal.

"And, my friend," thought Mr. de Vinne, "you'll be even more solemnbefore the month's out."

He saw Bones to the door, slapped him on the back, insisted on histaking another cigar, and stood outside on the pavement of CadoganSquare and watched the rear lights of Bones's car pass out of sight.Then he went back to his study telephone and gave a number. It was thenumber of Mr. Fred Pole's house, and Fred Pole himself answered thecall.

"Is that you, Pole?"

"That's me," said the other, and there was joy in his voice.

"I say, Pole," chuckled de Vinne, "I shall save you a lot of trouble."

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

"I've sold Bones my shares and yours too."

There was a deep silence.

"Did you hear me?" asked de Vinne.

"Yes, I heard you," said the voice, so strange that de Vinne scarcelyrecognised it. "How many did you sell?" asked Pole.

"A hundred and eighty thousand. I thought I could easily fix it withyou."

Another silence.

"What did Bones say to you?"

"He told me he wouldn't do any more business with you."

"Good Heavens!" groaned Pole, and added, "Gracious Heavens!"

"Why, what's the matter?" asked de Vinne quickly, scenting danger.

"That's what he said to me," moaned the other. "Just hang on. I'll beround in a quarter of an hour."

Mr. Fred Pole arrived under that time, and had a dreadful story tounfold. At nine o'clock that evening Bones had called upon him and hadoffered to buy his shares. But Bones had said he would not under anycircumstances —

"Buy my shares?" said de Vinne quickly.

"Well, he didn't exactly say that," said Fred. "But he gave me tounderstand that he'd rather buy the shares from me than from anybodyelse, and I thought it was such an excellent idea, and I could fix itup with you on the telephone, so I sold him – "