He reproached the greatest actress and the greatest dramatic poet for deceiving him, and quite ignored the nevertheless fairly obvious fact that he had first deceived them. "Now then," he began, with something of the pomposity of a chairman at a directors’ meeting, as soon as the table had been cleared and the room emptied of gentlemen in waiting and photographer and photographic apparatus, "let us see exactly where we stand." He glanced specially at Rose Euclid, who with an air of deep business acumen returned the glance. "Yes," she eagerly replied, as one seeking after righteousness, "_do_ let’s see." "The option must be taken up to-morrow. Good! That’s clear. It came rather casual-like, but it’s now clear. £4,500 has to be paid down to buy the existing building on the land and so on.... Eh?" "Yes. Of course Mr. Bryany told you all that, didn’t he?" said Rose brightly. "Mr. Bryany did tell me," Edward Henry admitted sternly. "But if Mr. Bryany can make a mistake in the day of the week he might make a mistake in a few naughts at the end of a sum of money." Suddenly Mr. Seven Sachs startled them all by emerging from his silence with the words: "The figure is O.K." Instinctively Edward Henry waited for more; but no more came. Mr. Seven Sachs was one of those rare and disconcerting persons who do not keep on talking after they have finished. He resumed his tranquillity, he re-entered into his silence, with no symptom of self-consciousness, entirely cheerful and at ease. And Edward Henry was aware of his observant and steady gaze. Edward Henry said to himself: "This man is expecting me to behave in a remarkable way. Bryany has been telling him all about me, and he is waiting to see if I really am as good as my reputation. I have just got to be as good as my reputation!" He looked up at the electric chandelier, almost with regret that it was not gas. One cannot light one’s cigarette by twisting a hundred-pound bank-note and sticking it into an electric chandelier. Moreover, there were some thousands of matches on the table. Still further, he had done the cigarette-lighting trick once for all. A first-class card must not repeat himself. "This money," Edward Henry proceeded, "has to be paid to Slossons, Lord Woldo’s solicitors, to-morrow, Wednesday, rain or shine?" He finished the phrase on a note of interrogation, and as nobody offered any reply, he rapped on the table, and repeated, half menacingly: "Rain or shine!" "Yes," said Rose Euclid, leaning timidly forward, and taking a cigarette from a gold case that lay on the table. All her movements indicated an earnest desire to be thoroughly businesslike. "So that, Miss Euclid," Edward Henry continued impressively but with a wilful touch of incredulity, "you are in a position to pay your share of this money to-morrow?" "Certainly!" said Miss Euclid. And it was as if she had said, aggrieved: "Can you doubt my honour?" "To-morrow morning?" "Ye-es."