During the next four days his Lordship, in the character of Mr Tremlett--as he was known in certain circles in the City--was busy with financiers to whom he offered the concession. His story was that it had been granted by the Italian Government to his cousin, Lord Nassington, and that the latter had given it into his hands to negotiate. In the various quarters where he offered it the concession caused a flutter of excitement. The shrewdest men in the City saw that it was a good thing, and one after the other craved a day to think it over. It really was one of the best things that had been offered for a long time. The terms required by the Italian Government were not at all heavy, and huge profits were certain to be made out of such a monopoly. The great tracts of fertile land in central and southern Italy would, by means of motor-transport, be opened up to trade, while Tremlett's picturesque story of how the concession had been snatched away from a strong group of German financiers was, to more than one capitalist, most fascinating. Indeed he saw half a dozen of the most influential men in the City, and before a week was out he had got together a syndicate which could command a couple of millions sterling. They were all of them shrewd men, however, and he saw that it behoved him to be on the alert. There is such a thing in the City as to be "frozen out" of a good thing, even when one holds it in one's hand. By dint of close watching and clever observation, he discovered something, and this caused him to ponder deeply. The syndicate expressed themselves ready to treat, but for the present he was rather unwilling. Some hitches occurred on technicalities, and there were a number of meetings to consider this point and that. By all this Mr Tremlett saw that he was losing time, and at the same moment he was not keeping faith with the old statesman concerning the amount to be paid into Madame's account in Paris. At last one morning, after the Parson had left for an unknown destination, he took a taxi-cab down to the City with a bold resolve. The five prominent financiers were seated together in an office in Old Broad Street when Mr Tremlett, leaning back in his chair, said: "Well, gentlemen, it seems that we are as far away as ever from coming to terms, and I think it useless to discuss the matter further. I must take the business elsewhere." "We admit," exclaimed an old bald man, a director of one of London's largest banks, "that it is a good thing, but the price you ask is prohibitive." "I can get it in Paris. So I shall go there," was Tremlett's prompt reply. "Well," exclaimed the bald man, "let's get straight to facts. Your cousin, Lord Nassington, wants sixty thousand pounds in cash for the concession and a percentage of shares, and that, we have decided, is far too much." "Those are his figures," remarked Tremlett.