Wyvern stared. For keen, hard-headed Le Sage to want his
advice--_his_--on a matter of business naturally struck him as quaint.
But he replied that of course nothing would give him greater pleasure.

"All right. Well take the grog in and smoke a final pipe or two over
our _indaba_. Come along."

He led the way round to the little room which he used as a private
office. It was entered from outside, and being detached from the house
was out of earshot of the other inmates.

"First of all," he began when they were seated, "I want to apologise for
what I said that day when--"

"Oh, shut up, Le Sage," interrupted Wyvern, bringing his hand hard down
into that of the other, and enclosing it in a firm grip. "I don't want
to hear another word about that, just as I've never given it another
thought--not a resentful one at any rate. I can quite see the matter
from your point of view--could at the time in fact. Now then, what's
this business matter you want to talk over? Is it about Lalante?"

"No. It's about myself."

Wyvern had already noticed an alteration in Le Sage's manner and also
appearance. The old touch of confident assertiveness seemed to have
gone, moreover he looked older and greyer. Now he seemed to look more
so still.

"About yourself?" repeated Wyvern, with visions of weak heart or latent
disease in the speaker, rising before him.

"Yes. Would it surprise you to hear that I'm practically a ruined man?"

"I should think it would. Good God, Le Sage, you can't really mean it!"

"I wish I didn't, but it's a fact. It's of no use bothering you with
details, Wyvern, for I've heard you say one couldn't shoot a man with a
worse head for business than yourself even if you fired a shot-gun up
and down the most crowded streets of London all day. Of course saying I
wanted your advice was only a blind," he added with a wan smile.

"But, briefly, how did it happen?"

"Rotten specs, and overdoing that. But the main thing is, Wyvern, and
it's due to you to explain--that in all probability Lalante will never
have a shilling--at least, not from me."

"I don't care if she hasn't half a farthing, as you know perfectly well,
Le Sage," was the decisive answer. "And now, look here. I haven't any
definite notion what that stuff I was telling you about this afternoon
will realise; but I'm pretty sure it'll be something very considerable
indeed for each of us. We shall have to go to work about it rather
cau