"Ah, that chap Corbett. I have been thinking about him. I wonder who he can be? Anyhow, I owe him my best wishes, as the mention of his name has had such excellent results." "Well, that is all," said Bruce rising. "Yes, thanks. I must now see about raising the money to pay my own call. I am interested in fifty thousand shares, you know." "Then you require some £7,500?" "Yes. But that will be easy when I can say that the Anglo-African Finance people are with me. Besides, this morning--queer you should call immediately afterwards--I have had some wholly unexpected news." "Indeed?" Mr. Dodge was in a talkative vein, and Bruce was in no hurry. "The very best!" went on Dodge gleefully. "You see, there is another man in this affair with me. I thought he was as stony-broke as I am myself--speaking confidentially, you know--when he suddenly writes to me saying that he had won a pot of money at Monte Carlo and could spare me £2,000. What's the matter? Beastly trying weather, isn't it? Try a nip of brandy." For once in his life the self-possessed barrister had blanched at a sudden revelation. But this was too much. He felt as though a meteorite had fallen on his head. Nevertheless, he grappled with the situation. "Ill! No!" he cried. "How stupid of me. I have forgotten my morning smoke. May I light a cigar?" "With pleasure. You know these. Try one." "You were saying--" "That's all. This young fellow, Mensmore his name is, got mixed up with me over a Californian mine. I thought he had lots of coin, so when Springboks came along he and I went shares in underwriting them. The public didn't feed, so we were loaded. I tried all I knew to get him to pay up, but he absolutely couldn't. And now at the very moment affairs look promising he writes offering £2,000. More than that, he says, if necessary, he can get the remainder of his half, £1750, from somebody. Where is his letter?" Mr. Dodge looked on his table. "Oh, here it is. Addressed from 'Yacht _White Heather_,' if you please. Quite swell, eh? Sir William Browne! That's the covey. I think I will let Sir William have 'em. It's a good, solid sort of name to have on the share register." "I would if I were you," said Bruce, hardly conscious of his surroundings. "If _you_ think so, I will. By Jove, this has been a good morning for me. Come and have lunch." "No, thanks. I have a lot to attend to. By the way, where did Mensmore live?" "I don't know. His address was always at the Orleans Club." Somehow, Bruce reached the street and a hansom. As the vehicle rolled off westward he crouched in a corner and tried to wrestle with the problem that befogged his brain.