“Then I’ll keep my news till he comes—I’ve done a good stroke of business for the Company I think, Wraile, a very big stroke. Ah, here he is. Come on, Lessingham; better sometimes than never. Well, I’m glad to see you. We’ll have your advice first and then I’ll tell you my news—it might put the other out of our heads.” The newcomer was a man of medium height and rather clumsy build—heavy shoulders, with a suspicion of hump in the back, and a large paunch. His hair was black and rather curly, but his complexion was pale and he wore large yellow-rimmed spectacles, with tinted Crooke’s lenses. He was smartly dressed—rather overdressed, with a heavy cravat and pearl pin; he wore dark-grey gloves which he did not remove even when writing, a habit that grated on the well-trained senses of his fellow-director. He spoke in a very soft and rather husky voice, which yet carried a considerable impression of character. As a matter of fact, he talked very little, leaving Sir Hunter to supply the deficiency. The three men sat down at the board table and were presently joined by the manager, Mr. Albert Blagge. Blagge was a tired-looking, middle-aged man, with honesty and mediocrity written all over him in equal proportions. He took little part in the discussion that followed and it was soon evident that he was employed as a responsible clerk and not as an adviser. On the subject of Dirt Track Racing the General had a good deal to say and said it well. Lessingham sat beside him at the Board table, sifting through his gloved hands a sheaf of prospectuses over which he ran his eyes—a habit of apparent inattention which intensely annoyed Sir Hunter but of which he had been unable to break his partner. At the end of ten minutes the General had reached his climax and conclusion—the Barsington Dirt Track Company was unsuitable for the Victory Finance Company to handle. “I agree,” said Lessingham, without looking up from his papers. Sir Hunter frowned slightly and brushed his moustaches. He would have preferred an argument; he liked something to batter down. On this occasion, however, he was anxious to get on to the more important subject that was itching under his waistcoat. Being slightly uncomfortable about his ground, he assumed a more than usually strong and hearty voice: “Now, my boy,” he said, “I’ve got a piece of news for you that’ll make you sit up. I’ve done a stroke of business that not many people, I flatter myself, could have brought off.” Lessingham turned his spectacled eyes for a moment to his companion’s face, then resumed his scrutiny of the Central Motorway Company’s prospectus. Wraile looked at the Chairman with interest, but said nothing. The reception of his opening remarks had not been enthusiastic, but it took more than that to throw Sir Hunter out of his stride.