“Mrs. Yale,” he said impressively, “was a wonderful woman, a splendid woman, a business woman. I can only hope that Yvonne inherits her splendid qualities.” When Talham ordered his world to his own satisfaction, he was not above adjusting the laws of progeniture. Mrs. Smith had sought his advice as to her investments. Talham had fallen for it. It is a subtle form of flattery employed by dowagers, who could not hint at the physical attractions of their middle-aged and bald-headed admirers, and still retain their self-respect; and who found in this oblique tribute to their business capacities an effective and profitable substitute. But Talham was not middle-aged, and the poison of the flattery had eaten deeper into his system. “I am transferring five thousand shares in the Mount Li Exploration Syndicate,” he said. Tillizinni was not easily moved, but now he gasped. “The Mount Li----?” he asked incredulously. “The Mount Li Exploration Syndicate,” said Talham firmly. “But there isn’t such a company,” protested the other. Talham looked at him a little sadly. “It is one of the things I have overlooked,” he said. “One of the essentials of our communal life. It did not, I confess, occur to me until that extraordinary woman was discussing such things as shares and bonds, that I realised in a flash that it was impossible for me to help her because no such shares stood in my name. Have not,” he asked impressively, “the great events of history which have transformed the world, been born in a moment’s inspiration? Even as I sat there, in the excellently appointed study--I must make a note, by the way, of the furnishing of that apartment: I should like an office arranged on similar lines--the Mount Li Exploration came into existence.” “In other words,” said Tillizinni with a helpless smile, “you created the company in order to give her shares!” “I created the company,” agreed the tall man, gravely. CHAPTER VIII. THE CELESTIAL WAY. It was a drizzling, miserable night; the streets were crowded with cars and cabs carrying their occupants to theatreland. On the drenched pavements the newspaper boys drove a thriving trade despite the unpromising climatic conditions. Every news bill dealt with the one subject--the mysterious murder, in the heart of London, of an ambassador by some person or persons unknown. That it was the Chinese Ambassador added to the general interest. There was something bizarre and mysterious about the great empire which appealed to the imagination, and the series of hypothesis which appeared in the columns of the press assisted to a remarkable degree in fostering the sense of mystery which surrounded the tragedy. There was scarcely a police-station in London that was not at that moment interrogating some stray Chinaman who had been brought in to account for his whereabouts on the night of the murder. There was not a district, apparently, which could not furnish a clue.