"Well, not exactly an anarchist--communist--anyway, he has quaint views on--things. Believes in the equality of the human race. An extraordinary fellow, a dreamer, got a crazy idea of raising a million to found a college, that's what he calls it, The Mother College--can't stop now, darling, but please don't make a fuss of him. He is just a little difficult as it is. I will tell you about him some day." He bustled out of the room and the study door closed with a thud. Beryl Merville considered Ambrose Sault for a very long time before she turned to her writing-table, where the unfinished letter to Ronald Morelle invited a conclusion. II "Well, Sault, why have you come? Anything wrong?" Beryl would have thought Dr. Merville's manner strangely mild and conciliatory after his show of antagonism toward the visitor. Sault had seated himself on the edge of a low chesterfield under the curtained window. "Moropulos is worried about some people who called at his bureau today. They came to ask him about a letter that had been sent to him from South Africa by the assistant manager of the Brakfontein Diamond Mine." Merville was standing by the library table, in the center of the room. The hand that played with the leaves of a magazine was trembling ever so slightly. "What has happened--how did they know--who were they?" he demanded shakily. "I think it was the managing director, the American gentleman. He was very angry. They discovered that the manager had been receiving money from London soon after he made his report. Moropulos told me that the shares had dropped thirty points since yesterday morning. Mr. Divverly said that Moropulos and his gang, those were the words I think, had bribed the manager to keep back the report that the mine was played out. I suppose he did. I know very little about stocks and shares." Dr. Merville was biting his knuckles, a weak and vacillating man; Sault had no doubts as to this, and it hurt him every time he realized that this invertebrate creature was Beryl Merville's father. How and why had he come into the strange confederation? "I can do nothing," the doctor was fretful, his voice jerky; he fixed and removed his pince-nez and fixed them again. "Nothing! I do not know why these people make inquiries. There was nothing dishonest in selling stock which you know will fall--it is a part of the process of speculation, isn't it, Sault? All the big houses work on secret information received or bought. If--if Moropulos or Steppe care to buy information, that is nobody's affair--" "There may be an inquiry on the Stock Exchange," said Sault calmly. "Moropulos asked me to tell you that. The Johannesburg committee have taken up the matter and have called for information. You see, the manager has confessed." "Confessed!" gasped the doctor and went white. "So Mr. Divverly says. He has told the directors that Moropulos had the information a month before the directors."