ter a long silence, the chairman, without rising, said:

"I move the adoption of the report and accounts."

"I second that."

"Those in favour signify the same in the usual way. Contrary? Carried."
The secretary noted the dissentients, six in number, and that Mr.
Westgate did not vote.

A quarter of an hour later he stood in the body of the emptying room
supplying names to one of the gentlemen of the Press. The passionless
fellow said: "Haythorp, with an 'a'; oh! an 'e'; he seems an old man.
Thank you. I may have the slips? Would you like to see a proof? With
an 'a' you said--oh! an 'e.' Good afternoon!" And the secretary thought:
'Those fellows, what does go on inside them? Fancy not knowing the old
chairman by now!'...

2

Back in the proper office of "The Island Navigation Company" old Heythorp
sat smoking a cigar and smiling like a purring cat. He was dreaming a
little of his triumph, sifting with his old brain, still subtle, the
wheat from the chaff of the demurrers: Westgate--nothing in
that--professional discontent till they silenced him with a place on the
board--but not while he held the reins! That chap at the back--an
ill-conditioned fellow! "Something behind!" Suspicious brute! There
was something--but--hang it! they might think themselves lucky to get
four ships at that price, and all due to him! It was on the last speaker
that his mind dwelt with a doubt. That fellow Ventnor, to whom he owed
money--there had been something just a little queer about his tone--as
much as to say, "I smell a rat." Well! one would see that at the
creditors' meeting in half an hour.

"Mr. Pillin, sir."

"Show him in!"

In a fur coat which seemed to extinguish his thin form, Joe Pillin
entered. It was snowing, and the cold had nipped and yellowed his meagre
face between its slight grey whiskering. He said thinly:

"How are you, Sylvanus? Aren't you perished in this cold?"

"Warm as a toast. Sit down. Take off your coat."

"Oh! I should be lost without it. You must have a fire inside you.
So-so it's gone through?"

Old Heythorp nodded; and Joe Pillin, wandering like a spirit, scrutinised
the shut door. He came back to the table, and said in a low voice:

"It's a great sacrifice."

Old Heythorp smiled.

"Have you signed the deed poll?"

Producing a parchment from his pocket Joe Pillin unfolded it with caution
to disclose his signature, and said:

"I don't like it--it's irrevocable