"Now for Mr. Hyatt," he thought, and opened the door. There was a little hallway to his chambers, in which the electric light still burned, in spite of the flood of sunlight that came from a long window at the end. "Extravagant beggar!" muttered T. B. The dining-room was empty, and the blinds were drawn, and here, too, the electric light was full on. There was a spare bedroom to the left, and to this T. B. made his way. He threw open the door. "Hyatt!" he called; but there was no answer, and he entered. Hyatt lay on the bed, fully dressed. The handle of a knife protruded from his breast, and T. B., who understood these things, knew that the man had been dead for many hours. * * * * * * * Consols were up. There was no doubt whatever about that fact, and the industrial market was a humming hive of industry. Breweries, bakeries, and candlestick makeries--their shares bounded joyously as though a spirit, as of early spring, had entered into these inanimate and soulless things. The mysterious "bears" were buying, buying, buying. Frantically, recklessly buying. Whatever coup had been contemplated by the Nine Men had failed, and their agents and brokers were working at fever heat to cover their losses. It is significant that on the morning the boom started, there appeared in all the early editions of the evening newspapers one little paragraph. It appeared in the "late news" space and was condensed: "Wady Barrage was handed over to Egyptian Government early this morning in presence of Minister of Works. Overnight rumours were prevalent that attempt made to destroy section dam by dynamite and that Italian named Soccori shot dead by sentry of West Kent Regiment in act of placing explosives on works. No official confirmation." Interesting enough, but hardly to be associated by the crowd which thronged the approaches of the House with the rising market. All day long the excitement in the city continued, all day long bareheaded clerks ran aimlessly--to all appearance--from 'Change to pavement, pavement to 'Change, like so many agitated ants. Sir George Calliper, sitting alone in the magnificence of his private office, watched the "boom" thoughtfully, and wondered exactly what would have happened if "an Italian named Soccori" had succeeded in placing his explosive. The echoes of the boom came to T. B. Smith in his little room overlooking the Thames Embankment, but brought him little satisfaction. The Nine Men had failed this time. Would they fail on the next occasion? Who they were he could guess. From what centre they operated, he neither knew nor guessed. For T. B. they had taken on a new aspect. Hitherto they had been regarded merely as a band of dangerous and clever swindlers, Napoleonic in their method; now, they were murderers--dangerous, devilish men without pity or remorse.