But first, you and I must come to an agreement. Which I'll be most obliged if you'll call by my office the day after tomorrow. I should like a few words with you to begin with." "At the moment," he said, "I'm taking a holiday and I should be very glad of a little of that, if possible. It has been a very exhausting day." "Of course it has been. But it was a very fortunate day, in my opinion." "I'm quite agreeable, Mr. Hinchcliffe. I hope you have an excellent holiday and that you have a very profitable one." "I shall have the pleasure of calling on you, then, the day after tomorrow. We will talk things over. I should like to think that with the help of Sir Rupert Crofton I can do business here for many years." "That's most kind of you, Mr. Hinchcliffe, and I do thank you." Hinchcliffe stood up and walked towards the door, but he turned and said as he went, "You haven't asked for the money." Harefield turned and glared at him. "But I would have, if you had been in any kind of a reasonable state to be asked." "I am perfectly reasonable. There is nothing, I'm sure, you could have said to make me more reasonable than I am at the moment. I'm not saying a word more until we meet. Good evening." Harefield sat on the bed in his empty room and thought that Hinchcliffe was going to make the whole thing a waste of time. Had he not heard how many men had lost and then regained fortune after fortune? Had he not seen the whole business now and then on the Stock Exchange? It was an absurd position. Not his usual position, certainly, but he had come to an end of himself, as they say, and he must be ready to let go if ever he was offered the chance of making a lot of money. The only thing was that he did not know what to offer. He knew that the bank was short of cash and that one of the great foreign institutions would offer any amount of cash, but he did not know who it was and what the conditions were. It was not that he cared very much. Of course, he would have preferred to have gone to the Bank of England, but all that he had in the world was invested there and it would mean a loss of interest, if he changed. The only thing was the name of the great institution which he knew. He knew that the banks knew it. Every time he saw a bill it was printed in red letters as a specimen. It was a great financial institution. But they did not know its name and he could not guess. He tried to think, but he could think of nothing. Well, he would have to let go. It was a question of days and hours. He must have been almost asleep, for he jumped at the sharp ring of the telephone and at the voice of a secretary who said, "There's a gentleman called to see you, sir." He got up from the bed in a great hurry, for if Hinchcliffe had been sent to call on him again and did not have the right information, the game was all up. He was horribly afraid of the old man. He hated the very sight of him. He would walk the town till morning looking for Hinchcliffe if he had to, but he would have the money. The very room seemed evil. He had been in bed for a long time, perhaps he had better take a rest and then, when Hinchcliffe called, Harefield would be all right again. He rang the bell. His man came. "Bring me my bag," he said. "And just look at that clock. The clock has been four minutes wrong every day." He looked at the clock. It had stopped. He looked at it so long that the man came back. "Just carry on with the clock," he said. His man returned with the bag. Harefield snatched at it. The man put it down. Harefield drew it to him and the weight of it nearly knocked the man down. It was so heavy. Harefield got out a handful of the money. He dropped it on the floor, and there was only ten pounds there. He picked up a twenty-pound note. He stood up. The man drew back. "Come," said Harefield, and they went out into the road. At his home he went to his library, and turned to the telephone book. The name. Could he not read it for himself? He tried, but it was no use. He went over to the books. He found it. It was in the book. It was there in black and white. He hurried back. A little bundle of letters. He ran through them and there it was. It was only the day before that he had heard it, with its amazing amount of security and, indeed, to his horror, there was Sir Rupert Crofton's name. And all the names of the bank and the amount of security given. He read it. The sum of three thousand pounds. A man with a small fortune, a man with a large fortune, a man with every kind of fortune, could draw upon the bank to the amount of thirty thousand pounds, without deposit of security. He must go. Harefield had come across men of all kinds in his brief career. He had seen men who lived like the great and glorious but had not a penny. He had seen men who had everything but were no better than paupers. He had seen men who had everything but were no better than paupers. He had seen men who had the chance to be very great men, but were of no use to the world. But he had never seen anything so dreadful as this man who had everything, everything, everything, and yet was only half a man. Harefield had been so afraid of him and had longed to run away. Now he was filled with a rage of anger. That man had everything. Everything and more. He walked to and fro and then Harefield ran out and began to walk about the streets looking into the faces of people who were passing, searching in every face, in every expression, and there was nothing. He began to feel a little better. He could not say to Hinchcliffe that he had failed. He felt that he could not. He must do it if he could. He must find someone who had seen it. When he thought of the man with the three thousand pounds the next morning he felt a wild desire for revenge. He went and made his way into one of the gambling clubs. And there he saw Hinchcliffe looking. He was not looking very well, but he had his money back and was looking around him as though he had a great deal to do, as a matter of fact he had an appointment in ten minutes with Sir Rupert Crofton. Harefield sat down and watched. He wanted to know if Hinchcliffe had got the money. The man looked round a great deal, and then walked over to a table. A man in black came and sat down next to him. Harefield could see that the table was empty, but the man was sitting there for no other reason. Now it was the end. They would go on playing and Harefield would have to go away and be patient. He would have to go to London and wait. There was nothing else that he could do. For a time he walked up and down the street. He walked up to the club. He tried the front door. It was shut. He tried the side door. That was shut too. Harefield stood there, shaking his head. He stood on the pavement and stared round and round, like a man without a home, a man that had lost everything. It was very early. The other people were going to their work. He stared round at the streets, the great city. It was so early. He sat down on a piece of waste ground by the river, but in a moment someone he knew looked at him and he began to walk about again. He went back to his club, and then, very late in the evening, he found Sir Rupert Crofton at home. ## XXIX ### A VISIT TO THE OFFICE Sir Rupert Crofton was at home. Sir Rupert Crofton at home! The man most successful in the room which was the great room, the room for talkers. Sir Rupert Crofton was at home! The place is, indeed, a most interesting one for a man with a good head, with a keen mind, a man who can do things, a man who has the spirit of this age, for the room for talkers is a room for men who can say all that they think, a room for men who have done something, a room for men who are remembered, a room for men who sit still and are admired by their fellows. The room for talkers is full of memories, a room for men who have done something. It was always a great point with Sir Rupert Crofton that his men should all have had something to say. He had no one in his room who could not speak or give their opinion. Now and then he had a dull fellow who was incapable of saying anything, a dull fellow who could do nothing, a dull fellow who could only be