The speculator, whose name was well known in financial circles, took it, examined the seal and signatures curiously, and asked what it was. "That," said Silas P. Hoggan, grandly, "is a concession from the Sultan of Turkey to establish wireless telegraph stations where I like, and to collect the revenue derived from them. Does it interest you, sir?" Hoggan saw that the bait was a tempting one. "Yes, a little," replied the speculator grandly. "It's a splendid proposition! I'm half inclined to go with it straight to the Marconi Company, who will take it over gladly at once. But I feel that we shall do better with a private syndicate, who, in turn, will resell to the Telefunken, the Goldsmidt, or Marconi Company." "I think you are wise," was the reply. "There's a heap of money in it! Think of all the coast stations we can establish along the Levant, the Dardanelles, and the Black Sea, to say nothing of the inland public telegraph service. And this, as you will see by the French translation, gives us a perfectly free hand to do whatever we like, and charge the public what we like, providing we give a royalty of five per cent. to the State." Then he handed Mr. Budden-Reynolds the letter from the Sublime Porte, together with the French translation. The letter the speculator read through carefully, and then expressed a desire to participate in the venture. Ansell's bluff was superb. The two men talked over the matter, "The American" drawing an entrancing picture of the enormous sums which were bound to accrue on the enterprise until, before he left the room, Mr. Budden-Reynolds declared himself ready to put up three hundred and fifty pounds for preliminary expenses if, in exchange, he might become one of the original syndicate. Upon a sheet of the hotel notepaper a draft agreement was at once drawn up, but not, however, until Ansell had raised many objections. He was not eager to accept the money, a fact which greatly impressed the victim. An hour later, however, he took Mr. Budden-Reynolds' cheque, signed a receipt, and from that moment his recovery from his illness was extremely rapid. Early next morning he handed in the cheque to a local bank for telegraphic clearance--which would occupy two days--and then set about packing. On the second day, at three o'clock in the afternoon, he drew the money, paid his hotel bill with a condescending air, and prepared to depart for Constantinople, for, as he had explained to his victim, there were several minor points in the concession which were not clear, and which could only be settled by discussion on the spot. Therefore he would go to Paris, and take the Orient Express direct to the Bosphorus. He had been smoking with Budden-Reynolds from four till five, and then went out to the American bar for an _aperitif_. When, however, he returned and ascended to his room to dress for dinner, he was suddenly startled by a loud knock on the door, and his friend Budden-Reynolds bustled in.