Duncan Fraser sat in his private room at the brewery in deep thought; no one interrupted him: he gave orders and they were never disobeyed. A stern-looking man, not given to making many friends, yet there was a kindly heart beneath a severe exterior. The manager of a great concern, he was admirably suited to the position, accustomed to handle and make decisions promptly, no shilly-shallying or "wait and see" about his actions. Very few people were aware he possessed unique opportunities of getting behind the scenes, learning government moves, acquiring knowledge beforehand which was advantageous in his dealings. Information had recently come to him from a valued and trusted correspondent in Germany, and he was considering how best to use it to the advantage of the firm. The heavy taxes on the brewers hit Chesney's hard, but they were able to stand them better than most firms; still he knew there must be a considerable diminution in dividends, consequently in Alan Chesney's income. It irritated him when he thought how careless the head of the firm was in money matters. Alan appeared to regard the brewery as a huge concern from which he could drain money as freely as beer ran into the casks. He made up his mind to talk seriously to Alan; he had a high opinion of his judgment and intelligence when he cared to exert those qualities. He expected him to arrive in half an hour and knew what to expect. Alan would rush up in his motor, say he had only a few minutes to spare, then dash off again as he arrived--in a hurry. The head of the firm was always in a hurry; never seemed to have a minute to spare; the "racing rush" took hold of him. Duncan Fraser smiled grimly as he thought how Alan careered about the country in pursuit of his favorite pastime. "Here he is," said Duncan, as he heard the powerful motor stop, and thud. Alan came into the room in a hurry. He was not in the best of humors; why the deuce couldn't Fraser manage without dragging him there? He had carte blanche as to how he should act. "Suppose you'll not keep me long," said Alan impatiently. "Longer than usual," was the reply. "Hang it all, I want to go to the races this afternoon. You must cut it short, please, Fraser." "This is more important than racing; I have just received some valuable information from Berlin." Alan became interested. "Berlin!" he exclaimed. "What's up there?" "War; it will break out before long." "Who is your informant?" Fraser handed him the letter. "Read that," he said. Alan did so. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "This looks serious. Can you rely upon it?" "Yes," said Fraser, with a characteristic snap of his firm lips. Alan put the letter down and a gloomy look settled on his face. "War," he said, "and I'll be out of it, confound the thing! I'm sorry I don't hold a commission." "I am not. You can't be in the army and look after things here," said Fraser.