I don’t want anyone to come into this concern who doesn’t believe in it. Make out a cheque for five hundred pounds to Mr. Swalecliffe. [O’DONNELL _writes out a cheque during the next speeches_. SWALECLIFFE. That’s very generous of you. GEORGE WINTER. Generous? Not a bit of it. You don’t think I mind having five hundred shares more, do you? SWALECLIFFE. D’you think they’re worth it? GEORGE WINTER. They’ll be worth ten pounds a piece in six months, or I’m a Dutchman. [O’DONNELL _hands him the cheque-book and a pen_. GEORGE WINTER _signs his name and tears out a cheque_. JAMES FORD. [_While he is doing this._] That looks as if you had confidence in the mine. GEORGE WINTER. [_Handing the cheque to_ SWALECLIFFE.] Here you are. [_To_ JAMES FORD.] D’you want me to buy your shares off you? JAMES FORD. [_With a quiet smile._] Not just yet, thank you. SWALECLIFFE. But what’s the meaning of the article, then? GEORGE WINTER. Why, it’s as plain as a pikestaff. The Lewishams were willing to give their eyes for the mine, but I was too much for them. Now they’re crabbing it. That’s all. [_He says this with great assurance, as if it thoroughly explained the whole thing._ SWALECLIFFE. But then.... GEORGE WINTER. Pay that into your bank and hand over the certificate to me when you get it. SWALECLIFFE. D’you think they’ll go to a premium? GEORGE WINTER. I’ve no doubt of it. I dare say the five hundred half-crowns will be just as useful to me as to you. But I shall hold on. I want a bigger profit than that. SWALECLIFFE. But if they’re good enough for you, they’re good enough for me. GEORGE WINTER. No, you’ve taken my cheque now. It’s too late. SWALECLIFFE. There’s your cheque. You can have it back again. I’m going to keep the shares. GEORGE WINTER. [_Good-humouredly._] Well, I don’t mind. It won’t make much difference to me. But don’t sell them, whatever you read in the papers. What’s a profit of half a crown? Wait till you’ve got a profit of five pounds, and then you can think of selling them. SWALECLIFFE. [_With a gasp._] Five pounds? That would be two thousand five hundred. GEORGE WINTER. [_Turning to_ COLONEL BOYCE.] Wait a minute. Get on to Bishop and Jones. BOYCE. The printers? GEORGE WINTER. We must answer this article. I’ve just been thinking what we’d better say. [_He sits down and begins to write, while_ COLONEL BOYCE _goes to the telephone_. BOYCE. What’s their number, d’you know? JAMES FORD. 703, I think. BOYCE. Is that the Exchange? Give me 703, will you? That is Bishop and Jones, the printers, isn’t it? GEORGE WINTER. I’m going to make it hot and strong. O’DONNELL. Isn’t there anything I can do? BOYCE. Are you Bishop and Jones? GEORGE WINTER. Tell them to have everything ready to print off a couple of thousand posters at once. You’re just coming round in the car. BOYCE.