don't say
that. Put it like this: 'Mr. Tibbetts, though apparently
young-looking, bears on his hardened old face the marks of years spent
in the service of his country. There is a sort of sadness about his
funny old eyes----' You know what to say, old thing."

"I know," said the journalist, rising. "You'll see this in the next
edition, Mr. Tibbetts."

When the young man had gone, Hamilton staggered across to him.

"Bones," he said, in a hollow voice, "you've never bought this stuff
for a million?"

"A million's a bit of an exaggeration, dear old sportsman," said Bones.
"As a matter of fact, it's about half that sum, and it needn't be paid
for a month. Here is the contract." He smacked his lips and smacked
the contract, which was on the table, at the same time. "Don't get
alarmed, don't get peevish, don't get panicky, don't be a wicked old
flutterer, Ham, my boy!" he said. "I've reckoned it all out, and I
shall make a cool fifty thousand by this time next week."

"What will you pay for it?" asked Hamilton, in a shaky voice. "I mean,
how much a ton?"

Bones mentioned a figure, and Hamilton jotted down a note.

He had a friend, as it happened, in the jute trade--the owner of a big
mill in Dundee--and to him he dispatched an urgent telegram. After
that he examined the contract at leisure. On the fourth page of that
interesting document was a paragraph, the seventh, to this effect:

"Either parties to this contract may, for any reason whatsoever, by
giving notice either to the Ministry of Supplies, Department 9, or to
the purchaser at his registered office, within twenty-four hours of the
signing of this contract, cancel the same."

He read this over to Bones.

"That's rum," he said. "What is the idea?"

"My jolly old captain," said Bones in his lordly way, "how should I
know? I suppose it's in case the old Government get a better offer.
Anyway, dear old timidity, it's a contract that I'm not going to
terminate, believe me!"

The next afternoon Bones and Hamilton returned from a frugal lunch at a
near-by tavern, and reached the imposing entrance of the building in
which New Schemes Limited was housed simultaneously--or perhaps it
would be more truthful to say a little later--than a magnificent
limousine. It was so far ahead of them that the chauffeur had time to
descend from his seat, open the highly-polished door, and assist to the
honoured sidewalk a beautiful lady in a large beaver coat, who c