back in her chair without answering.

"It's all right for every one," screamed Roland joyfully. "Why, if I've
made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have netted.
It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled off the
biggest thing of his life."

He thought for a moment.

"The chap I'm sorry for," he said meditatively, "is Mr. Windlebird's
pal. You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his
shares to me."

A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear
it. He was reading the cricket news.

THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE

Third of a Series of Six Stories [First published in _Pictorial Review_,
July 1916]

It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you
sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke
with considerable vehemence on the bridge of the nose. For the moment
Roland fancied that the roof of the Regent Grill-room must have fallen
in; and, as this would automatically put an end to the party, he was not
altogether sorry. He had never been to a theatrical supper-party before,
and within five minutes of his arrival at the present one he had
become afflicted with an intense desire never to go to a theatrical
supper-party again. To be a success at these gay gatherings one must
possess dash; and Roland, whatever his other sterling qualities, was a
little short of dash.

The young man on the other side of the table was quite nice about it.
While not actually apologizing, he went so far as to explain that it was
"old Gerry" whom he had had in his mind when he started the roll on
its course. After a glance at old Gerry--a chinless child of about
nineteen--Roland felt that it would be churlish to be angry with a young
man whose intentions had been so wholly admirable. Old Gerry had one of
those faces in which any alteration, even the comparatively limited
one which a roll would be capable of producing, was bound to be for the
better. He smiled a sickly smile and said that it didn't matter.

The charming creature who sat on his assailant's left, however, took a
more serious view of the situation.

"Sidney, you make me tired," she said severely. "If I had thought you
didn't know how to act like a gentleman I wouldn't have come here with
you. Go away somewhere and throw bread at yourself, and ask Mr. Bleke to
come and sit by me. I want to talk to him."

That was Roland