One day, talking shop because they seemed to have now no other common topic, Burroughs mentioned to Errington that he was negotiating a very large transaction with a Chinese broker, and stated the terms on which the consignment of goods was to change hands. Errington congratulated him on the prospect of doing a good stroke of business, and the subject dropped. Next day, however, at the last moment, the negotiations fell through, to Burroughs’ great annoyance. It was a loss to his branch, and incidentally to himself, for both he and Errington had a small interest in the turnover of their branches, as well as a salary. He was also vexed at having mentioned the matter to Errington, when it was so unlike him to talk about things that were still uncertain. What was his surprise and irritation a few days later to hear from his comprador that the transaction in which he had failed had been completed by Errington, who had overbid him. "Nonsense! Absolute rot!" he said to the man, feeling indignant on his friend’s behalf. The comprador spread out his hands deprecatingly and said-- "Allo lightee savvy all same, sah. Mass’ Ellington he go buy all jolly lot." "Shut up; I don’t believe it." The Chinaman shrugged: surely his master was very short this morning! But he said no more. Two days after, however, he brought Burroughs the order for the goods, written on the official paper of Ehrlich Söhne, and signed with Errington’s initials. At this, even a friend of long standing might well be staggered. Burroughs remembered that his chum had been looking more and more worried of late. He came to breakfast with a pale face and weary eyes, and the look of a man who had not slept. Could it be that, in his urgent need of money, he had fallen to the temptation of snatching this business out of the hands of the other house? If it had been Reinhardt, Burroughs would not have been at all surprised; but that Errington had taken advantage of the information casually given him to steal a march on his friend was inconceivable. Burroughs knew perfectly well that at the time when negotiations were in progress with him, Feng Wai, the Chinese merchant, had made no overtures to the German firm, so that there was no question of the firms being played off against each other. Besides, it had always been an understanding between the two old school-fellows that, a price having once been named, each should abide by it. The position was unendurable to Burroughs, who at once stepped over to Errington’s office, and walked, as he had always been accustomed to do, though not frequently of late, straight into his room. Once, Errington would have sprung up from his seat with a hearty word of greeting: now he remained sitting, with a look of embarrassment. "I say, Pidge," began Burroughs, trying to speak in an ordinary tone, "what’s this I hear about Feng Wai doing better with you than with me? I told you, you remember, that I had practically concluded the deal."