behind his
back, more than anyone else in the "House," and important men sought his
acquaintance, with an awkward show of civility, who were notorious for
their rude exclusiveness.

It might be, of course, that his "corner" would break under him at any
fortnightly settlement, but already he had carried it much further than
such things often went, and the planning of the coup had been beyond
doubt Napoleonic.

Had this small sandy Scot planned it, or was he merely the weapon in
Thorpe's hand? Both views had their supporters on the Exchange, but
after the wrench of August 1st, when with an abrupt eighty-shilling
rise the price of Rubber Consols stood at 15 pounds, and it was to
be computed that Semple had received on that single day nearly 75,000
pounds in differences and "backwardation," a story was set afloat which
gave Thorpe the undivided credit of the invention. It was related as
coming from his own lips that he had schemed it all out to be revenged
upon a group of Jewish operators, against whom he had a grievance. In
confirmation of this tale, it was pointed out that, of the seven men
still held pinned in the fatal "corner," six were Jews--and this did,
upon first glance, look significant. But then it was objected, upon
reflection, that Blaustein and Ascher had both been permitted to make
their escape, and this hardly justified the theory of an implacable
anti-Semitic vendetta. The objection seemed reasonable, but it was met
in turn by the point that Blaustein and Ascher had been bled white,
as Bismarck's phrase went, before they were released, whereas the five
Christians had been liberated with relatively moderate fines. Upon the
whole, a certain odour of the Judenhetze clung thereafter about the
"corner" in Rubber Consols.

On an afternoon of the following week, Mr. Stormont Thorpe was alone in
the Board Room of the offices in Austin Friars. He had risen from the
great roller-topped desk over between the windows, and walked now with
a lethargic, tired step to and fro before the empty fireplace, yawning
more than once, and stretching out his arms in the supreme gesture of
fatigue. After a dozen listless rounds, something occurred to him. He
moved with a certain directness of purpose to the cabinet in the corner,
unlocked it, and poured out for himself a tumbler of brandy and soda.
He drank it without a pause, then turned again, and began pacing up and
down as before, his hands clasped behind him, his head bent