incognito—his shares were held in the name of his lawyer, who was thinking seriously of building an annex to hold the unprofitable scrip.
Mr. White was gratified to discover a kindred soul who believed in this kind of speculation.
It was to the doctor's apartment that he was now walking. That gentleman met him in the entrance and accompanied him to his room. There was a light in the fanlight of Oliva's flat, for she had brought some of her work home to finish, but Mr. Beale's flat was dark.
This the doctor noted before he closed his own door, and switched on the light.
"Well, White, have you made up your mind?" he demanded without preliminary.
"I—ah—have and I—ah—have not," said the cautious adventurer. "Forty thousand is a lot of money—a fortune, one might say—yes, a fortune."
"Have you raised it?"
Mr. White sniffed his objection to this direct examination.
"My broker has very kindly realized the debentures—I am—ah—somewhat indebted to him, and it was necessary to secure his permission and—yes, I have the money at my bank."
He gazed benignly at the other, as one who conferred a favour by the mere bestowal of his confidences.
"First, doctor—forgive me if I am a little cautious; first I say, it is necessary that I should know a little more about your remarkable scheme, for remarkable I am sure it is."
The doctor poured out a whisky and soda and passed the glass to his visitor, who smilingly waved it aside.
"Wine is a mocker," he said, "nothing stronger than cider has ever passed my lips—pray do not be offended."
"And yet I seem to remember that you held shares in the Northern Saloon Trust," said the doctor, with a little curl of his bearded lips.
"That," said Mr. White hastily, "was a purely commercial—ah—affair. In business one must exploit even the—ah—sins and weaknesses of our fellows."
"As to my scheme," said the doctor, changing the
