n
thousand pounds, the prospect is not cheering, but we hope you have some
good years before you yet. We understand your income to be two thousand
pounds."

Old Heythorp shook his head. "Nineteen hundred and thirty pounds in a
good year. Must eat and drink; must have a man to look after me not as
active as I was. Can't do on less than five hundred pounds. Fourteen
hundred's all I can give you, gentlemen; it's an advance of two hundred
pounds. That's my last word."

The silence was broken by Mr. Ventnor.

"And it's my last word that I'm not satisfied. If these other gentlemen
accept your proposition I shall be forced to consider what I can do on
my own account."

The old man stared at him, and answered:

"Oh! you will, sir; we shall see."

The others had risen and were gathered in a knot at the end of the
table; old Heythorp and Mr. Ventnor alone remained seated. The old man's
lower lip projected till the white hairs below stood out like bristles.
'You ugly dog,' he was thinking, 'you think you've got something up your
sleeve. Well, do your worst!' The "ugly dog" rose abruptly and joined
the others. And old Heythorp closed his eyes, sitting perfectly still,
with his cigar, which had gone out, sticking up between his teeth. Mr.
Brownbee turning to voice the decision come to, cleared his throat.

"Mr. Heythorp," he said, "if your bankers and solicitors bear out your
statements, we shall accept your offer faute de mieux, in consideration
of your--" but meeting the old man's eyes, which said so very plainly:
"Blow your consideration!" he ended with a stammer: "Perhaps you will
kindly furnish us with the authorisation you spoke of?"

Old Heythorp nodded, and Mr. Brownbee, with a little bow, clasped
his hat to his breast and moved towards the door. The nine gentlemen
followed. Mr. Ventnor, bringing up the rear, turned and looked back. But
the old man's eyes were already closed again.

The moment his creditors were gone, old Heythorp sounded the hand-bell.

"Help me up, Mr. Farney. That Ventnor--what's his holding?"

"Quite small. Only ten shares, I think."

"Ah! What time is it?"

"Quarter to four, sir."

"Get me a taxi."

After visiting his bank and his solicitors he struggled once more into
his cab and caused it to be driven towards Millicent Villas. A kind of
sleepy triumph permeated his whole being, bumped and shaken by the cab's
rapid progress. So! He was free of those sharks now so long as he could
ho