us of action. Long, long after British firms had closed for the
day, and their employes had rushed off to amuse themselves at football,
golf, or boating, the German was still sticking to it and hard at work.
But there was another feature of which Shafto was aware and could not
applaud; this was the "spy" system. There were rumours of an active
gang (manipulated from Berlin), whose business it was to discover what
English firms were doing in the way of large contracts, and
subsequently to enter into competition, cut out, and undersell. It was
said that their methods were both prompt and ruthless. It was also
hinted that one or two firms winked at contraband, offered irresistible
bribes, and made fabulous profits.

The individual characteristics of his fellow-inmates were soon
impressed upon Shafto, and the interest they evinced in him--a mere
stranger--was undeniably agreeable to his _amour propre_. MacNab, who
was sincerely concerned about his financial affairs, instructed him in
many clever economies, and the localities of the cheapest shops; he was
also emphatic on the subject of cautious outlay--and full of warning
against the horrors of "a rainy day."

FitzGerald, on the contrary, was eloquent in favour of "the best that
was going, and hang the expense!"

"You'll want two horses, my boy," he announced, "if you're going in for
paper-chasing and the gymkhana; you might chance on a bargain, too. I
heard of a fellow who got a wonder for three hundred rupees, an ugly
ewe-necked brute, but he carried off the Gold Cup and every blessed
thing he was entered for. On the other hand, such a windfall is a very
outside chance; then you must have a small car for the rains--I believe
you would get a nice little Ford for six hundred rupees."

Shafto received this advice with a shout of laughter.

"A racer and a car on four hundred rupees a month! FitzGerald, you are
raving mad. If I followed your advice----" he paused.

"You would soon be shunted out of Gregory's," supplemented MacNab, who,
with impassive face, was lolling in a long chair, a silent but
attentive listener.

"Ah, don't be minding that fellow!" protested FitzGerald. "Shure, he'd
sell his father's gravestone, if he ever had the heart to put it up."

"Well, I pay my way, Fitz, and can walk down Phayre Street at my case,
whilst you----" he paused significantly.

"Oh, well, I own a few bills, I know--six hundred rupees a month goes
no way here, but it