to have
happened a thousand years ago. His brain was in anarchy, and waving like
a flag above the anarchy was the question: "How much did old Silas
leave?" But the deceitful fellow would not permit the question to utter
itself,--he had dominion over himself at any rate to that extent. He
would not break the silence; he would hide his intense curiosity; he
would force Softly Bishop to divulge the supreme fact upon his own
initiative.

And at length Mr. Bishop remarked, musingly:

"Yes. Thanks to the exchange being so low, you stand to receive at the
very least a hundred thousand pounds clear--after all deductions have
been made."

"Do I really?" said Mr. Prohack, also musingly.

CHAPTER III

THE LAW

His tranquil tone disguised the immense anarchy within. Silas Angmering
had evidently been what is called a profiteer. He had made his money
"out of the war." And Silas was an Englishman. While Englishmen,
and--later--Americans, had given up lives, sanity, fortunes, limbs,
eyesight, health, Silas had gained riches. There was nothing highly
unusual in this. Mr. Prohack had himself seen, in the very club in which
he was now entertaining Softly Bishop, a man who had left an arm in
France chatting and laughing with a man who had picked up over a million
pounds by following the great principle that a commodity is worth what
it will fetch when people want it very badly and there is a shortage of
it. Mr. Prohack too had often chatted and laughed with this same
picker-up of a million, who happened to be a quite jolly and generous
fellow. Mr. Prohack would have chatted and laughed with Barabbas,
convinced as he was that iniquity is the result of circumstances rather
than of deliberate naughtiness. He seldom condemned. He had greatly
liked Silas Angmering, who was a really educated and a well-intentioned
man with a queer regrettable twist in his composition. That Silas should
have profiteered when he got the chance was natural. Most men would do
the same. Most heroes would do the same. The man with one arm would
conceivably do the same.

But between excusing and forgiving a brigand (who has not despoiled
_you_), and sharing his plunder, there was a gap, a chasm.

Few facts gave Mr. Prohack a more serene and proud satisfaction than the
fact that he had materially lost through the war. He was positively glad
that he had lost, and that the Government, his employer, had treated him
badly.... And now to become the heir o