"Yes," said Pateley, trying to control his own excitement, and recovering his usual tone with an effort. "That's all, thank you. It is much the simplest form of illustration." "Illustration! What are you going to do with it?" Sir William said, aghast. "That depends," said Pateley. "I must see how and when I can use it to the best advantage." "You have sworn," Sir William said tremulously, "that you won't say where you got it from." "Of course I won't," Pateley said, gradually returning to his usual burly heartiness. "Now, may I ask where _you_ got it from?" "I got it out of there," Sir William said, pointing to the table. "A corner of it was sticking out." "Might I suggest that you should put it back again?" said Pateley. "Good Heavens, yes!" said Gore. "I had forgotten." And he nervously folded it up and dropped it through the slit of the table. "Ha, that's safer," said Pateley, with a short laugh. "You should not lose your head over these things," and he gave a swift look down the street again. "Now I must go. I am going straight to the City, and I'll tell you what I shall do," and his manner became more emphatic as he went on, as though answering some objection. "I'm going to buy up the whole of the 'Equator' shares on the chance of a rise, and perhaps some Cape to Cairo too, and then we'll see. Now, can't I do something for you too? Won't you buy something on the chance of a rise?" Sir William had sunk into a chair. He shook his head. "I am too tired to think," he said. "I don't know." "Well, you leave it to me," Pateley said, "and I'll do something for you--and if things go as we think, by next week you will be in a position to make good the losses of all London two or three times over. I'll let you know what happens, and what I've been able to do." "Thank you," Sir William said again feebly. "The news will soon pick you up," said Pateley heartily, as he shook him by the hand. "No, don't get up; I can find my way out. Goodbye." And a moment later he passed the window, striding away towards Knightsbridge. CHAPTER XIV Sir William remained lying back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, too much exhausted by the excitement of the last few minutes to realise entirely what had happened, but with a vague, agonised consciousness that he had done something irrevocable, something that mattered supremely. But to try even to conceive what might be the consequence of it so made his heart throb and his head whirl that all he could do was to put it away from him with as much effort as he had strength to make. It was so that Rachel found him, when she came gaily in a few minutes later from a shopping expedition in Sloane Street, eager to tell him of all her little doings, and of some acquaintances she had met in the street. He looked at her and tried to smile. "Father--father--dear father!" she said in consternation. "What is it? Are you not so well?"