"Come in here, come in here," said Mr. Drayton, rubbing his hands with glee. "So I was right, and that old fool was wrong, hah! hah! hah!" and he laughed uproariously. The stranger walked into the small room; he could hardly believe, he said, that Mr. Drayton's acute intelligence had been laughed at. What shares had he had in those works; what papers had he to show? Perhaps that was a matter of no moment. If the shares had been sold ... why it was a misfortune, unless he could buy them back before the discovery, the great discovery, was made known. "What discovery?" asked Mr. Drayton, in a moment suspicious. "That you were right and every one else wrong." "How has that discovery been made?" "By experiment." "Yes; but who made the experiment?" The stranger leaned forward and said in a low voice, "You remember your manager, the man who left you?" "Remember him! You do not mean to say he is in the thick of this--the scoundrel, the--the rascal." Then suspicion came to him again. "What interest in all this have you?" he asked, very angrily, and glaring at the stranger fiercely. "Interest? you do not suppose I have come to you for nothing; that would be rather a good joke," and he laughed heartily. "Of course not, of course not. But from what motive? No one does anything for nothing," and Mr. Drayton put on an air of wisdom, in which cunning was very visible. "I should think not, indeed; and I am not working for nothing, I can tell you. In the first place, a friend of mine has been most abominably treated--shockingly, shamefully treated!" "By whom?" "By some one connected with these works," (and I am sure that is true, said Paul Lyons to himself, since he, this man, has been connected with them). "Can't you tell his name?" "No, I can't, it would spoil all my plans if I did," (and so it would, he thought). "I do not believe in disinterested friendships." "Nor do I; but I intend having a reward." "From me, I suppose," and Mr. Drayton laughed again. "From you--and from some one else. If my ideas are correct--you would not grudge me a good percentage, eh?" "What do you call a good percentage?" "Well, I want half; I want fifty per cent." "Fifty per cent.! nonsense, absolute nonsense." "You have no right to say 'nonsense'; and I think I am wasting my time," (which is also true, it is quite wonderful how I have been able to speak the truth to-day), and Paul Lyons felt a glow of satisfaction at this reflection. "I don't know what you're driving at;" and Mr. Drayton looked so furiously at him that Paul Lyons thought if he ever favoured Margaret with such a glance it was enough to give her a fit.