"Quite so!" retorted the financier, "but it gives the limit of safety. Between certain lines you can negotiate--even on the Stock Exchange, ha, ha!" His laugh was curiously explosive and shook him from head to foot. "But surely there _is_ a standard," said Helen softly. "There is a standard which, collectively, we accept, Helen. It comes back in the end to our personal verdict, I'm afraid," said her cousin, "and it is curious how that verdict varies," he continued addressing Mr. Hirsch. "You, I expect, believe in the law of supply and demand. Now, I feel, somehow, that if I were to charge a thousand pounds for a glass of water which a distracted husband wanted for his dying wife, I should be doing a detestably mean thing, even though the man was quite willing and able to pay for it." There was a pause. "That is rather a stiff example," said Ted Cruttenden; "but theoretically, a man surely has the right to get the best price he can for his wares; without that axiom commerce would come to an end." "What would the world be without it, I wonder?" remarked Dr. Ramsay. "Supposing it was made penal for any one to take more than ten per cent. profit----" "I should be a pauper," laughed Mr. Hirsch, his bright eyes dancing. "That would not suit me at all. Why, I should have nothing over to give away, and my charities cover my sins. Imagine it, a world where there was no '_coup_,' where your brains were of no use to you. Pah!" He poured himself out a glass of water abstractedly, and drank it as if to take away the taste. He was in great form that night, the rebuff of Helen's refusal to drive home with him having acted on his abundant vitality much as the attempt of a rival on the Stock Exchange to limit his freedom of action would have done, that is, it stimulated his determination to do as he chose. And the others seemed in high spirits also, so that even Ned forgot the very existence of the Seaview Hotel, until some one said laughingly that there must be electricity in the air, or magnetism, or hypnotism, and suggested a _séance_ of some kind. "No," cried Lady Wrexham, who posed as being well in with the Psychical Research Society. "Let us crystal gaze--or stay, a magic mirror. Only a little ink in the palm of the hand, Mrs. Tresillian. It so often comes off when I'm in the room, and I'm sure you could 'scry,' I see it in your eyes." Helen's caught Dr. Ramsay's instantly, almost resentfully, but he was silent. "Perhaps I'm a witch also, who knows?" she said, speaking at him. "Old Betty Cam was an ancestress of ours, wasn't she, father? and she was the devil's own warlock. But you shan't be disappointed, Lady Wrexham. There is a real magical crystal that came from Thibet somewhere in the house. I will find it for you to-morrow, or rather to-day, for it is past twelve o'clock. Time for every one who isn't a witch to be in her bed, surely."