shares in a fiduciary capacity, I have no more to say--no more about them, at least.' And he promised, with cheerful obligingness, to deal further with this point in his next number. Within an hour of the appearance of this article Beaufort Chance entered Fricker's study in great perturbation. He found that gentleman calm and composed. 'How much does Liffey know?' asked Chance, almost trembling. Fricker shrugged his shoulders. 'It doesn't much matter.' 'If he knows that I'm in it, that I've----' 'He won't know you're in it, unless one of the fellows gives us away. Clarkson knows about you, and Tyrrwhitt--none of the rest. I think I can keep them quiet. And we'll get out now. It's not as good as I hoped, but it's pretty good, and it's time to go.' He looked up at Chance and licked his cigar. 'Now's the moment to settle matters with the widow,' he went on. 'You go and tell her what I want and what you want. I don't trust her, and I want to see; and, Beaufort, don't tell her about Dramoffskys till you find out what she means. If she's playing square, all right. If not'--he smiled pensively--'she may find out for herself the best time for selling Dramoffskys--and Glowing Stars too.' 'Glowing Stars? She's not deep in them, is she? I know nothing about them.' 'A little private flutter--just between her and me,' Fricker assured him. 'Now there's no time to lose. Come back here and tell me what happens. Make her understand--no nonsense! No more shuffling! Be quick. I shall hold up the market a bit while our men got out, but I won't let you in for anything more.' Fricker's morals may have been somewhat to seek, but he was a fine study at critical moments. 'You don't think Liffey knows----?' stammered Chance again. 'About those little hints of yours? I hope not. But I know, Beaufort, my boy. Do as well as you can for me with the widow.' Beaufort Chance scowled as he poured himself out a whisky-and-soda. But he was Fricker's man and he must obey. He went out, the spectre of Mr. Liffey seeming to walk with him and to tap him on the shoulder in a genial way. At eleven o'clock Beaufort Chance arrived at Trix Trevalla's and sent up his name. Mrs. Trevalla sent down to say that she would he glad to see him at lunch. He returned word that his business was important, and would not bear delay. In ten minutes he found himself in her presence. She wore a loose morning-gown, her hair was carefully dressed, she looked very pretty; there was an air of excitement about her; fear and triumph seemed to struggle for ascendancy in her manner. She laid a letter down on the table by her as he entered. While they talked she kept putting her hand on it and withdrawing it again, pulling the letter towards her and pushing it away, fingering it continually, while she kept a watchful eye on her companion. 'What's the hurry about?' she asked, with a languor that was not very plausible. 'Dramoffskys?'