‘Yes. We sold, I find, over two hundred thousand shares at three. They then fell, as you know, to about twenty-five shillings. Then they began to go up like a balloon. The market tightened like a drawn string. Sir Arthur, we were led into a trap. For once in a way some fellow has got the better of Simon Lock--temporarily, only temporarily. My brokers thought they were selling shares to the public in general, but they were selling to the agents of a single buyer. That is evident.’ ‘How do we stand now?’ ‘We have to deliver our shares in a week’s time. We have some eighty thousand shares in hand, bought at various prices up to five pounds. On those eighty thousand we shall just about clear ourselves. That leaves us over a hundred and twenty thousand yet to buy.’ ‘At the best price we can obtain?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And what is the best price to-day?’ ‘Well,’ said Lock, looking Sir Arthur straight in the face, ‘I have had shares offered to me this morning at twenty-five.’ Sir Arthur’s reply was to rush to the sideboard and help himself to a glass of brandy. He was a timid creature, despite his appearance. ‘And that figure means that we should lose the sum of twenty-two pounds on each share. Twenty-two times one hundred and twenty thousand, Sir Arthur, is two millions six hundred and forty thousand pounds. That would be the amount of our loss on the transaction.’ ‘But this is child’s play, Lock.’ ‘Excuse me, it isn’t,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is men’s play, and desperately serious.’ ‘I don’t understand the methods of the Stock Exchange--never did,’ said Sir Arthur Custer, M.P. ‘I only came into the City because a lot of fellows like yourself asked me to. But it seems to me the only thing to do is to cry off.’ ‘Cry off?’ ‘Yes. Tell all these people to whom we have contracted to sell Princesse shares that we simply can’t supply ’em, and tell ’em to do their worst. Their worst won’t be worse than a dead loss of over two and a half millions.’ ‘My dear Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock, ‘there is no crying off in the City. We have contracted to deliver those shares, and we must deliver them, or pay the price--commercial ruin.’ ‘The Stock Exchange,’ Sir Arthur blustered, ‘is one of the most infamous institutions----’ ‘Yes,’ Simon Lock cut him short, ‘we know all about that. The Stock Exchange is quite right as long as we are making money; but when we begin to lose it immediately becomes infamous.’ Sir Arthur made an obvious effort to pull himself together. ‘What is your plan of campaign, Lock?’ he asked. ‘You must have some scheme in your head. What is it? Don’t trifle with me.’ ‘Well,’ said Simon Lock, ‘we have a week. That is our principal asset. Seven precious days in which to turn round. A hundred and sixty hours. In that time----’ There was a knock at the door, and a page entered with a telegram. Simon Lock opened it hurriedly. The message ran: