"If I could only bring it home to the scoundrel--but it would be impossible. I hear that he has been buying heavily and for a mere nothing. But I'm glad you came to me first. Stop--you said you had heard from your brokers." "Yes, sir; I went to my brokers at once." "Major!" cried Clive excitedly, as a sadden thought flashed through his brain. "Good Heavens! Surely you have not sold your shares?" The Major was silent, for at last the younger man's tones had carried conviction. "You have?" The Major nodded, and looked ghastly now. "Then you have thrown away thousands," cried Clive angrily. "There was not a share to be had when you bought. They were mine--my very own, that no other man in England should have had at any price. Why didn't you come to me? How could you be so mad?" "Then--then it really is a false report?" faltered the Major. "False as hell," cried Clive, who now strode up and down the room in turn, his brow knit, and eyes flashing. "How could you be so weak--how could you be so mad? The scoundrels! The cowardly villains. Oh, Major, Major, you should have trusted me." There was a tap at the door, and the Major took out his handkerchief, and made a feint to blow his nose loudly, as he surreptitiously wiped the great drops from his brow. "Come in," cried Clive; and the servant entered with a number of newspapers. "The evening papers, sir." Clive caught them up one by one, and pointed out letter and advertisement denying the truth of the rumour, and denouncing it as a financial trick to depreciate the value of the shares. "But it will not stop the panic," said Clive sadly. "People will believe the lie, and turn away from the truth. I have given instructions to buy up every share that is offered, but I find that a Mr Wrigley is buying up all he can get." "Yes," said the Major faintly. "I believe he is the man who bought mine." "Tchah!" ejaculated Clive. "Yes, it is a conspiracy for certain. There: write a message and send off at once to Dinah. Tell her it is as she believed, only a rumour, and that everything is right." "Everything wrong, you mean," groaned the Major. "How can I write that?" "Because everything will be all right, sir. You do not think I am going to let my dearest wife's father suffer for an error of judgment?" "No, no," groaned the Major, "I cannot lower--I cannot--God in Heaven! how could I have been such a fool." "Because, my dear sir," said Clive, patting his shoulder affectionately, "you are not quite perfect. There, send the message at once. Poor darling! She must be in agony." The Major's face went down upon his hands. "Send it--you--you can write--" "It shall be in your name then," said Clive, and he dashed off the missive. "There." Turning to the Major, he took his hands. "Come, sir, look me in the eyes, and tell me you believe now that I am an honest man."