As detail after detail of the brilliantly worded document which Ogilvie and Rycroft had compounded with such skill, fell upon the ears of Lord Grayleigh's audience, satisfaction not unmixed with avarice lit up the eyes of many. Accustomed as most of these men were to assayers' reports, what they now listened to unfeignedly astonished them. There was a great silence in the room, and not the slightest word from Lord Grayleigh's clear voice was lost. When he had finished he laid the document on the table and was just about, as he expressed it, to proceed to business when a movement at the door caused all to turn their heads. Ogilvie had unexpectedly entered the room. Cries of welcome greeted him and many hands were stretched out. He contented himself, however, with bowing slightly, and going up the room handed Lord Grayleigh a packet. "Don't open it now," he said in a low voice, "it is for yourself, and carries its own explanation with it." He then turned and faced the directors. There was something about his demeanor and an indescribable look on his face, which caused the murmurs of applause to die away and silence once more to fill the room. Lord Grayleigh slipped the small packet into his pocket and also rose to his feet. Ogilvie's attitude and manner disturbed him. A sensation as though of coming calamity seemed to weigh the air. Lord Grayleigh was the first to speak. "We are all glad to welcome you back, Ogilvie," he said. "In more senses than one we are pleased that you are able to be present just now. I have just been reading your report to these gentlemen. I had finished it when you entered the room." "It is an admirable and brilliant account of the mine, Mr. Ogilvie," said a director from the far end of the table. "I congratulate you not only on the good news it contains, but on the excellent manner in which you have put details together. The Lombard Deeps will be the best thing in the market, and we shall not need for capital to work the mine to the fullest extent." "Will you permit me to look at my report for a moment, Lord Grayleigh?" said Ogilvie, in a grave tone. Grayleigh gave it to him. Ogilvie took it in his hand. "I have come here to-day," he said, "to speak for a moment"--his voice was husky; he cleared his throat, and went on--"to perform a painful business, to set wrong right. I am prepared, gentlemen, for your opprobrium. You think well of me now, you will not do so long. I have come here to speak to you of that----" "Sit down," said Grayleigh's voice behind him. "You must be mad. Remember yourself." He laid his hand on Ogilvie's arm. Ogilvie shook it off. "I can tell you, gentlemen, what I have come to say in a few words," he continued. "This report which I drew up, and which I signed, is as _false as hell_." "False?" echoed a voice in the distance, a thin voice from a foreign-looking man. "Impossible!"