"Yes; at thirty shillings apieoe," I said drily.
"No, no," he protested.
"Well, it's eighteenpence."
He coughed and eyed me carefully. "What's the market price?" he said softly.
"Eighteenpence."
"Well, don't you think three shillings"
"No, I don't think in shillings to-day; I think in sixpences. It's eighteenpence or nothing," I said cheerfully, and I rose.
"Very well, very well, sit down," he said hastily.
"I've my friend's check for two hundred and twenty-five in my pocket. Let's get the thing over."
"You're so impatient," he said, almost fretfully. "A block of three thousand shares in a company like the Quorley Granite Company, a sound property, is not a thing to dispose of"
"Look here," I said firmly. "I'm not an idle man, and I can't afford to waste my time. I want to go and play bridge. Hurry up."
In ten minutes I had the transfer in my pocket, and he had my own check for £225. He looked at the Roger Brand of the signature, and then he looked at me. But he said nothing about the identity of the Christian names.
When I said good-by he said, with real earnestness, "Good-by, Mr. Armitage, and if you'll ex-
