“To be sure,” Ovington answered smoothly. “That is the only point, gentlemen, in which my expectations have not been borne out. The interview between Mr. Griffin and myself was disappointing, but I hoped to be able to tell you to-day that we were a little more forward. Mr. Wolley, however, has handed me a letter which he has received from Garth, and it is certainly——” “A d——d unpleasant letter,” Wolley struck in. “The old Squire don’t mince matters.” He had predicted that his landlord would not come in, and he was pleased to see his opinion confirmed. “He says I’d better be careful, for if I and my fine railroad come to grief I need not look to him for time. By the Lord,” with unction, “I know that, railroad or no railroad! He’d put me out as soon as look at me!” Sir Charles shuffled his papers uncomfortably. To hear a man like Wolley discuss his landlord shocked him—he felt it a kind of treason to listen to such talk. He feared—he feared more than ever—that the caustic old Squire was thinking him a fool for mixing himself up with this business. Good Heavens, if, after all, it ended in disaster! Acherley took it differently. He cared nothing for Griffin’s opinion; he was in money difficulties and had passed far beyond that. He laughed. “Put you out? I’ll swear he would! There’s no fool like an old fool! But he won’t have the chance.” “No, I think not,” Ovington said blandly. “But his attitude presents difficulties, and I am sure that our Chairman will agree with me that if we can meet his views, it will be worth some sacrifice.” “Can’t Arthur get round him?” Acherley suggested. “No,” Arthur replied, smiling. “Perhaps if you——” “Will you see him, Mr. Acherley?” “Oh, I’ll see him!” carelessly. “I don’t say I shall persuade him.” “Still, we shall have done what we can to meet his views,” the banker replied. “If we fail we must fall back—on my part most reluctantly—on the compulsory clauses. But that is looking ahead, and we need not consider it at present. I don’t think that there is anything else? It is close on the half-hour. Will you see, Bourdillon, if all is ready in the bank?” Arthur went out, leaving the door ajar. There came through the opening a murmur of voices and the noise of shuffling feet. Ovington turned over the papers before him. “In the event of the subscriptions exceeding the sum required, what day will suit you to allot? Thursday, Sir Charles?” “Friday would suit me better.” “Friday be it then, if Mr. Acherley—good. On Friday at noon, gentlemen. Yes, Bourdillon?” Arthur did not sit down. He was smiling. “It’s something of a sight,” he said. “By Jove it is! I think you ought to see it.”