“My dear Quixote,” drawled George Wallis protestingly, “you are setting yourself an impossible task.” Gilbert Standerton shook his head. “Indeed I am not,” he said. “I have made much more money on the Stock Exchange than ever I thought I should possess in my life.” “Will you tell me this?” asked the other. “What is the explanation of this sudden desire of yours for wealth--for sudden desire I gather it was?” “That I cannot explain,” said Gilbert, and his tone was uncompromising. There was a little pause, then George Wallis rose. “I think we had better understand one another now,” he said. “You have taken from us nearly twenty thousand pounds--twenty thousand pounds of our money swept out of existence.” Gilbert shook his head. “No, there is not a penny of it gone. I tell you I used it as a reserve in case I should want it. As a matter of fact, I shall not want it now,” he smiled, “I could restore it to you to-night.” “You will greatly oblige me if you do,” said the other. Gilbert looked at him. “I rather like you, Wallis,” he said, “there is something admirable about you, rascal that you are.” “Rascals as we are,” corrected Wallis. “You who have no illusions do not create one now.” “I suppose that is so,” said the other moodily. “How is this going to end?” asked Wallis. “Where do we share out, and are you prepared to carry on this high-soul arrangement as long as my firm is in existence?” Standerton shook his head. “No,” he said, “your business ends to-night.” “My business?” asked the startled Wallis. “Your business,” said the other. “You have made enough money to retire on. Get out. I have made sufficient money to take over all your stock at valuation”--he smiled again--“and to restore every penny that has been stolen by you. I was coming to you in a few days with that proposition.” “And so we end to-night, do we?” mused Wallis. “My dear good man,” he said cheerfully, “to-night--why I am going out after the most wonderful coup of all! You would laugh if you knew who was my intended victim.” “I am not easily amused in these days,” said Gilbert. “Who is it?” “I will tell you another time,” said Wallis. He walked to the office door, his hands in his pockets. He stood for a moment admiring a huge safe and whistling a little tune. “Don’t you think it an excellent idea of mine,” he asked with the casual air of the suburban householder showing off a new cucumber frame, “this safe?” “I think it is most excellent.” “Business is good,” said Wallis regretfully. “It is a pity to give it up after we have taken so much trouble. You see, we may not sell half a dozen safes a year to the right kind of people, but if we only sell one--why we pay expenses! It is so simple,” he said. “By the way, have you missed a necklace of sorts which has been restored to the police? Do not apologise!” He raised his hand. “I understand this is a family matter. I am sorry to have caused you any inconvenience.”