‘Well, Mr. Lock, I shall not tell you. It is no business of yours. The sole fact that concerns you is that I am in a position to control this particular market, not how I arrived at that position.’ Raphael Craig’s tone had suddenly become inimical, provocative, almost insolent. Simon Lock coughed. The moment had come. He said: ‘On the night before his decease the late Mr. Featherstone, whose death we all lament, wrote out a sort of confession----’ ‘You are mistaken,’ said Raphael Craig, with absolute imperturbability; ‘it was on the last night but one before his death. After writing it out, he changed his mind about killing himself instantly. He came up here to see me instead. He told me he had put everything on paper. He made an urgent request, a very urgent request, to me to reconsider a certain decision of mine. I declined to reconsider it. On the other hand, I thoughtfully offered him a bed. He accepted it, left the next morning, and killed himself. I merely mention these circumstances for the sake of historical exactitude. I suppose you have somehow got hold of Featherstone’s document.’ At this point Richard rose and walked to the window. The frosty coldness, the cynical carelessness, of Raphael Craig’s manner made him feel almost ill. He was amazed at this revelation of the depth of the old man’s purpose to achieve his design at no matter what cost. ‘I have got hold of it--somehow,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You may judge what I think of its value when I tell you that I paid ten thousand pounds for it.’ ‘Hum!’ murmured Craig. ‘What surprises me is that the police did not get hold of it long ago. They must be very careless searchers. My opinion of Scotland Yard is going down rapidly.’ He paused, and then continued: ‘It was indiscreet of you, Mr. Lock, to pay ten thousand pounds for that document. It is quite useless to you.’ ‘I fear you cannot be aware what is in it,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is indisputable evidence that during many years past you have been in the habit of coining large quantities of silver money.’ ‘What of that?’ ‘It means penal servitude for you, Mr. Craig, if I give it up to the police. But I trust you will not compel me to such an extreme course.’ ‘How can I persuade you to have mercy on me?’ laughed Raphael Craig. The other evidently did not appreciate the full extent of the old man’s sarcasm. ‘It will not be difficult,’ said Simon Lock, ‘provided you are reasonable. I will tell you without any circumlocution what my terms are.’ Simon was feeling firm ground under feet at last, as he thought. ‘What my terms are.’ He repeated the phrase, which seemed to give him satisfaction. ‘You must instruct your agents to agree to a cancellation of the contracts to sell La Princesse shares. They must let go.’ ‘As those contracts stand, Mr. Lock, how much do you reckon you would lose on them?’ ‘I cannot say,’ said Lock stiffly.