"What was the start of this feeling?" Kendrick asked.

"A woman," Wingate replied shortly, "and that's all there is to be said
about it, Kendrick. I shall hate Peter Phipps as long as I live, for the
sake of the girl he ruined, and he will hate me because of the thrashing
I gave him. Ever noticed the scar on his right cheek, Kendrick?"

"Often," the stockbroker replied. "He told me it was done in a saloon
fight out in the Far West."

"I did it in the Far East," Wingate declared grimly, "as far east, at
least, as the drawing-room of his Fifth Avenue house. He'll never lose
that scar. He'll never lose his hatred of the man who gave it to him.--So
he wants me to sell him wheat!"

"It's a pretty dangerous thing to introduce feelings of this sort into
business," Kendrick remarked.

"You're right," Wingate admitted. "It makes one careful. I'm not selling
any wheat to-day, Kendrick."

"It will be a disappointment to the office," the other remarked.
"Personally, I'm glad."

"Oh, I'll keep your office busy," Wingate promised. "I'm not coming into
the City for nothing, I can assure you. There are five commissions for
you," he went on, drawing a sheet of paper from the rack and writing on
it rapidly. "That will keep your office busy for a time. I'll give you a
cheque for fifty thousand pounds. Don't ring me up unless you want more
margin. Closing time prices are all I'm interested in, and I can get
those on the tape anywhere."

The stockbroker's eyes glistened as he looked through the list.

"You're a good judge, Wingate," he said. "You'll make money on most
of these."

"I expect I shall," Wingate acknowledged. "Anyhow, it will keep you
people busy and serve as a sort of visiting card here for me until--"

"Until what?" Kendrick asked, breaking a short pause.

"Until I can make up my mind how to deal with those fellows across the
way. On paper it still looks a good thing to sell them wheat, you know.
Peter Phipps has something up his sleeve for me, though. I've got to try
and find out what it is."

"You'll excuse me for a moment?" Kendrick begged. "I'm only a human
being, and I can't hold a couple of million pounds' worth of business in
my hand and not set it going. I'll be back directly."

"Don't hurry on my account," Wingate replied. "I'm going to use your
telephone, if I may."

"Of course! You have a private line there. The others will be all buzzing
away in a minute. I'll send Jenkins and Poore along to th