ng women against whom
she had declared war. Faces were flushed and voices grew a little thick.
Da Souza's arm unchidden sought once more the back of his neighbour's
chair, Miss Montressor's eyes did their utmost to win a tender glance
from their lavish host. Suddenly Trent rose to his feet. He held a glass
high over his head. His face was curiously unmoved, but his lips were
parted in an enigmatic smile.

"A toast, my friends!" he cried. "Fill up, the lot of you! Come! To our
next meeting! May fortune soon smile again, and may I have another home
before long as worthy a resting-place for you as this!"

Bewilderment reigned. No one offered to drink the toast. It was Miss
Montressor who asked the question which was on every one's lips.

"What's up?" she exclaimed. "What's the matter with our next meeting
here to-morrow night, and what's all that rot about your next home and
fortune?"

Trent looked at them all in well-simulated amazement.

"Lord!" he exclaimed, "you don't know--none of you! I thought Da Souza
would have told you the news!"

"What news?" Da Souza cried, his beady eyes protuberant, and his glass
arrested half-way to his mouth.

"What are you talking about, my friend?"

Trent set down his glass.

"My friends," he said unsteadily, "let me explain to you, as shortly as
I can, what an uncertain position is that of a great financier."

Da Souza leaned across the table. His face was livid, and the corners of
his eyes were bloodshot.

"I thought there was something up," he muttered. "You would not have me
come into the City this morning. D--n it, you don't mean that you--"

"I'm bust!" Trent said roughly. "Is that plain enough? I've been bulling
on West Australians, and they boomed and this afternoon the Government
decided not to back us at Bekwando, and the mines are to be shut down.
Tell you all about it if you like."

No one wanted to hear all about it. They shrunk from him as though he
were a robber. Only the little brown girl was sorry, and she looked at
him with dark, soft eyes.

"I've given a bill of sale here," Trent continued. "They'll be round
to-morrow. Better pack to-night. These valuers are such robbers. Come,
another bottle! It'll all have to be sold. We'll make a night of it."

Mrs. Da Souza rose and swept from the room--Da Souza had fallen forward
with his head upon his hands. He was only half sober, but the shock
was working like madness in his brain. The two girls, after whisperi