out of this transaction which would enable him to make
a substantial proposal to his creditors. So that when the old man had
declared that he was going to make none, something had turned sour in
his heart, and he had said to himself: "All right, you old rascal! You
don't know C. V." The cavalier manner of that beggarly old rip, the
defiant look of his deep little eyes, had put a polish on the rancour of
one who prided himself on letting no man get the better of him. All that
evening, seated on one side of the fire, while Mrs. Ventnor sat on
the other, and the younger daughter played Gounod's Serenade on the
violin--he cogitated. And now and again he smiled, but not too much.
He did not see his way as yet, but had little doubt that before long
he would. It would not be hard to knock that chipped old idol off his
perch. There was already a healthy feeling among the shareholders that
he was past work and should be scrapped. The old chap should find that
Charles V. was not to be defied; that when he got his teeth into a
thing, he did not let it go. By hook or crook he would have the old
man off his Boards, or his debt out of him as the price of leaving him
alone. His life or his money--and the old fellow should determine which.
With the memory of that defiance fresh within him, he almost hoped
it might come to be the first, and turning to Mrs. Ventnor, he said
abruptly:

"Have a little dinner Friday week, and ask young Pillin and the curate."
He specified the curate, a tee-totaller, because he had two daughters,
and males and females must be paired, but he intended to pack him off
after dinner to the drawing-room to discuss parish matters while he and
Bob Pillin sat over their wine. What he expected to get out of the young
man he did not as yet know.

On the day of the dinner, before departing for the office, he had gone
to his cellar. Would three bottles of Perrier Jouet do the trick, or
must he add one of the old Madeira? He decided to be on the safe side. A
bottle or so of champagne went very little way with him personally, and
young Pillin might be another.

The Madeira having done its work by turning the conversation into such
an admirable channel, he had cut it short for fear young Pillin might
drink the lot or get wind of the rat. And when his guests were gone, and
his family had retired, he stood staring into the fire, putting together
the pieces of the puzzle. Five or six thousand pounds--six would be ten
per ce