"There isn't a great deal to tell," Croyden replied, coming around from the dressing table, and drawing on his vest as he came. "It is five years since my father died and left me sole heir to his estate. In round numbers, it aggregated half a million dollars--all in stocks and bonds, except a little place down on the Eastern Shore which he took, some years before he died, in payment of a debt due him. Since my mother's demise my father had led the life of quiet and retirement in a small city. I went through college, was given a year abroad, took the law course at Harvard, and settled down to the business of getting a practice. Then the pater died, suddenly. Five hundred thousand was a lot of money in that town. Too much to settle there, I thought. I abandoned the law, and came to Northumberland. The governor had been a non-resident member of the Northumberland Club, which made it easy for me to join. I soon found, however, that what had seemed ample wealth in the old town, did not much more than make ends meet, here--provided I kept up my end. I was about the poorest one in the set I affected, so, naturally, I went into the stock market. Royster was the particular broker of the gang and the first year I did very well.--You think it was intended?" (As Macloud smiled.) "Well, I don't doubt now you're right. The next year I began to lose. Then Royster put me into that Company of his down in Virginia--the Virginia Improvement Company, you know. He took me down, in a special car, showed me how much he himself had in it, how much would be got out of it, offered to let me in on the ground floor, and made it look so rosy, withal, that I succumbed. Two hundred thousand was buried there. An equal amount I had lent them, at six per cent., shortly after I came to Northumberland--selling the securities that yielded only four per cent. to do it. That accounts for four hundred thousand--gone up the flume. Eighty thousand I lost in stocks. The remainder, about twenty thousand, I still have. By some error I can't account for, they did not get away with it, too.--Such is the tale of a foolish man," he ended. "Will you make any effort to have Royster prosecuted?" Macloud asked. "No--I've been pretty much of a baby, but I'm not going to cry over milk that's spilt." "It's not all spilt--some of it will be recovered." "My dear Macloud, there won't be enough money recovered to buy me cigarettes for one evening. Royster has hypothecated and rehypothecated securities until no man can trace his own, even if it would help him to do so. You said it would _likely_ prove a disgraceful failure. I am absolutely sure of it." Macloud beat a tattoo on the window-ledge. "What do you think of doing?" he said--"or haven't you got to it, yet--or don't you care to tell?" "I've got to it," replied Croyden; "and I don't care to tell--anyone but you, Colin. I can't stay here----"