The half-yearly directors' meeting of the Menatogen Company had just been held. One by one, those who had attended it were taking their leave. The auditor, with a bundle of papers under his arm, shook hands cordially with the chairman--Alfred Burton, Esquire--and Mr. Waddington, and Mr. Bomford, who, during the absence of the professor in Assyria, represented the financial interests of the company. "A most wonderful report, gentlemen," the auditor pronounced,--"a business, I should consider, without its equal in the world." "And still developing," Mr. Waddington remarked, impressively. "And still developing," the auditor agreed. "Another three years like the last and I shall have the pleasure of numbering at least three millionaires among my acquaintances." "Shall we--?" Mr. Burton suggested, glancing towards Waddington. Mr. Waddington nodded, but Mr. Bomford took up his hat. He was dressed in the height of subdued fashion. His clothes and manners would have graced a Cabinet Minister. He had, as a matter of fact, just entered Parliament. "You will excuse me, gentlemen," he said. "I make it a rule never to take anything at all in the middle of the day." He took his leave with the auditor. "Pompous old ass!" Mr. Waddington murmured. "A snob!" Mr. Alfred Burton declared,--"that's what I call him! Got his eye on a place in Society. Saw his name in the paper the other day a guest at Lady Somebody's reception. Here goes, old chap--success to Menatogen!" Waddington drained his glass. "They say it's his wife who pushes him on so," he remarked. Mr. Burton's wine went suddenly flat. He drank it but without enjoyment. Then he rose to his feet. "Well, so long, Waddington, old chap," he said. "I expect the missis is waiting for me." Mrs. Burton was certainly waiting for her husband. She was sitting back among the cushions of her Sixty horse-power Daimler, wrapped in a motoring coat of the latest fashion, her somewhat brilliant coloring only partially obscured by the silver-gray veil which drooped from her motor bonnet. Burton took his place beside her almost in silence, and they glided off. She looked at him curiously. "Meeting go off all right?" she asked, a little sharply. "Top hole," Mr. Burton replied. "Then what are you so glum about?" she demanded, suspiciously. "You've got nothing to worry about that I can see." "Nothing at all," Mr. Burton admitted. "Very good report of Alfred came second post," Mrs. Burton continued. "They say he'll be fit to enter Harrow next year. And an invitation to dine, too, with Lady Goldstein. We're getting on, Alfred. The only thing now is that country house. I wish we could find something to suit us." "If we keep on looking," Burton remarked, "we are bound to come across something sooner or later. If not, I must build."