ith it was an official letter headed "Ministere des Affaires Etrangers,
Sublime Porte," enclosing a translation of the document in French, and
asking for an acknowledgment.

The imitation was, indeed, perfect. Ralph Ansell rubbed his hands with
glee. In Berlin he could obtain at least ten thousand pounds for it, if
he tried unsuspicious quarters.

But he wanted ready money to pay his hotel bill and to get to Germany.

An hour later, when the manager came up to pay his usual morning visit,
he expressed regret that he had to close the hotel, and added:

"We have still quite a number of visitors. Among them we have Mr.
Budden-Reynolds, of London. Do you happen to know him? They say he has
made a huge fortune in speculation on the Stock Exchange."

"Budden-Reynolds!" exclaimed Ralph, opening his eyes wide. "I've heard
of him, of course. A man who's in every wild-cat scheme afloat. By Jove!
That's fortunate. I must see him."

The introduction was not difficult, and that same evening Mr.
Budden-Reynolds, a stout, middle-aged, over-dressed man of rather Hebrew
countenance, was ushered into the "sick" financier's room.

"Say, sir, I'm very pleased to meet you. I must apologise for not being
able to come down to you, but I've had a stiff go of rheumatism. I heard
you were in this hotel, and I guess I've got something which will
interest you."

Then, when he had seated his visitor, he took from a drawer the
formidable registered packet, and drew out the Turkish concession.

The speculator, whose name was well known in financial circles, took it,
examined the seal and signatures curiously, and asked what it was.

"That," said Silas P. Hoggan, grandly, "is a concession from the Sultan
of Turkey to establish wireless telegraph stations where I like, and to
collect the revenue derived from them. Does it interest you, sir?"

Hoggan saw that the bait was a tempting one.

"Yes, a little," replied the speculator grandly.

"It's a splendid proposition! I'm half inclined to go with it straight
to the Marconi Company, who will take it over gladly at once. But I feel
that we shall do better with a private syndicate, who, in turn, will
resell to the Telefunken, the Goldsmidt, or Marconi Company."

"I think you are wise," was the reply.

"There's a heap of money in it! Think of all the coast stations we can
establish along the Levant, the Dardanelles, and the Black Sea, to say
nothing of the inland public telegraph service. And