“No, it was Frowningshield who did it. Am I not saying that you are perfectly blameless? When I learned about the _Rajah’s_ expedition, about the money offered to Captain Simmons, about the compensation that was to be given to Frowningshield, about the running of the ore to Lisbon; when I heard all this, so prejudiced was my brain that I said to myself: ‘Here I’ve caught the biggest thief in the world.’ But when I learned that you had done it, I saw at once what your object was. You were going to smelt that ore without expense to me, take it over in ingots to England, and say, ‘Here, Lord Stranleigh, you’re not half a bad sort of chap. You don’t understand anything about mining or the harsh ways of this world. Here is your gold.’” Schwartzbrod poured down his throat a liquor glass full of brandy, and collapsed in his chair. “You see, Mr. Schwartzbrod, there were only two alternatives for a poor brain like mine to accept: first, that you are the most generous man in the world; second, that you are the most daring robber in the world. Do you think I hesitated? Not for a moment. I knew you were no thief. Thieves are in Whitechapel, and Soho, and the East End generally, but not in the City of London. They’re all men of law there. You are not a thief, are you, Mr. Schwartzbrod? No. Then sit down, honest man, and write me a check for the nine thousand pounds I have already paid to Captain Simmons, and for the amount which you promised to Frowningshield. I accept the benefit of your generosity in the same spirit in which it is tendered. I do not ask you where the gold is, I’ll look after that; but the new ship you are trying to charter must not sail for the Paramakaboo. I cannot accept further kind offices from you. All I ask of you is to write a check for such an amount that it will fulfill the promises you made to Simmons and Frowningshield. That’s why I requested you to bring your check book.” Schwartzbrod, with a groan, sat down at the table and drew forth his check book. CHAPTER X--THE MEETING WITH THE GOVERNOR OF THE BANK THE mere accumulating of money does not call for a high, order of intelligence. A stealthy craft is more valuable in that business than the intellect of a Shakespeare. The low cunning of a fox is often successful where the brave strength of a lion fails. Of course there are estimable men who accumulate a fortune through manufactory, discovery, or invention: men who are benefactors to their fellow creatures, and to whom money comes through the fruition of their endeavors to enrich the world rather than themselves. But a Stock Exchange speculator like Schwartzbrod, equipped with the sneaking slyness of an avaricious but ignorant peasant, becomes a mere predatory beast, producing nothing; fattening on the woes and losses of others; stealthy and cruel as the man-eating tiger. It is probable that as civilization advances such a vampire will be secluded from his fellows as the leper is in Eastern lands.