ced with effusive gesture:

"Hello, Senator!"

"You're punctual as usual, Mr. Ryder. I never knew you to be
late!"

The great man chuckled, and the little men standing around,
listening breathlessly, chuckled in respectful sympathy, and they
elbowed and pushed one another in their efforts to attract Ryder's
notice, like so many cowardly hyenas not daring to approach the
lordly wolf. Senator Roberts made a remark in a low tone to Ryder,
whereupon the latter laughed. The bystanders congratulated each
other silently. The great man was pleased to be in a good humour.
And as Ryder turned with the senator to enter the Directors Room
the light from the big windows fell full on his face, and they
noticed that his eyes were of the softest blue.

"No squalls to-day," whispered one.

"Wait and see," retorted a more experienced colleague. "Those eyes
are more fickle than the weather."

Outside the sky was darkening, and drops of rain were already
falling. A flash of lightning presaged the coming storm.

Ryder passed on and into the Directors Room followed by Senator
Roberts and the other directors, the procession being brought up
by the dapper little secretary bearing the minutes.

The long room with its narrow centre table covered with green
baize was filled with directors scattered in little groups and all
talking at once with excited gesture. At the sight of Ryder the
chattering stopped as if by common consent, and the only sound
audible was of the shuffling of feet and the moving of chairs as
the directors took their places around the long table.

With a nod here and there Ryder took his place in the chairman's
seat and rapped for order. Then at a sign from the chair the
dapper little secretary began in a monotonous voice to read the
minutes of the previous meeting. No one listened, a few directors
yawned. Others had their eyes riveted on Ryder's face, trying to
read there if he had devised some plan to offset the crushing blow
of this adverse decision, which meant a serious loss to them all.
He, the master mind, had served them in many a like crisis in the
past. Could he do so again? But John Ryder gave no sign. His eyes,
still of the same restful blue, were fixed on the ceiling watching
a spider marching with diabolical intent on a wretched fly that
had become entangled in its web. And as the secretary ambled
monotonously on, Ryder watched and watched until he saw the spider
seize its helpless prey and devour it.