He was so occupied with his own thoughts that he did not notice two gentlemen who came in from the bar, and taking seats a little distant from him, ordered drinks from the waiter who came to attend to them. They were both in evening dress, and had apparently left the opera in order to talk business, for they kept conversing eagerly, and their voices striking on Vandeloup’s ear he glanced round at them and then relapsed into his former inattentive position. Now, however, though apparently absorbed in his own thoughts, he was listening to every word they said, for he had caught the name of The Magpie Reef, a quartz mine, which had lately been floated on the market, the shares of which had run up to a pound, and then, as bad reports were circulated about it, dropped suddenly to four shillings. Vandeloup recognised one as Barraclough, a well-known stockbroker, but the other was a dark, wiry-looking man of medium height, whom he had never seen before. ‘I tell you it’s a good thing,’ said Barraclough, vehemently laying his hand on the table; ‘Tollerby is the manager, and knows everything about it.’ ‘Gad, he ought to,’ retorted the other with a laugh, ‘if he’s the manager; but I don’t believe in it, dear boy, I never did; it started with a big splash, and was going to be a second Long Tunnel according to the prospectus; now the shares are only four shillings--pshaw!’ ‘Yes, but you forget the shares ran up to a pound,’ replied Barraclough, quickly; ‘and now they are so cheap we can snap them up all over the market, and then--’ ‘Well?’ asked the other, with interest. ‘They will run up, old fellow--see?’ and the Broker rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘How are you going to get up a “Boom” on them?’ asked the wiry man, sceptically; ‘the public won’t buy blindly, they must see something.’ ‘And so they shall,’ said Barraclough, eagerly; ‘Tollerby is sending down some of the stone.’ ‘From the Magpie Reef?’ asked the other, suspiciously. ‘Of course,’ retorted the Broker, indignantly; ‘you did not think it was salted, did you? There is gold in the reef, but it is patchy. See,’ pulling out a pocket-book, ‘I got this telegram from Tollerby at four o’clock to-day;’ he took a telegram from the pocket-book and handed it to his companion. ‘Struck it rich--evidently pocket--thirty ounces to machine,’ read the other slowly; ‘gad! that looks well, why don’t you put it in the papers?’ ‘Because I don’t hold enough shares,’ replied the other, impatiently; ‘don’t you understand? To-morrow I go on ‘Change and buy up all the shares at four shillings I can lay my hands on, then at the end of the week the samples of stone--very rich--come down. I publish this telegram from the manager, and the “Boom” starts.’ ‘How high do you think the shares will go?’ asked the wiry man, thoughtfully. Barraclough shrugged his shoulders, and replaced the telegram in his pocket-book.