"I want you to give me power of attorney to deal with that hundred thousand."
"Then at the psychological moment you will withdraw that deposit, and thus smash Mackeller's bank?"
"Precisely."
There was silence for a few minutes. Stranleigh paced up and down the room, deep in thought, while Corbitt scrutinised him keenly. At last Stranleigh stopped in his perambulation.
"Very well," he said. "Have a power of attorney made out, and I'll sign it."
"It is already made out," replied Corbitt, pulling the document from his inside pocket. "If your secretary is within call, or indeed, anyone else, your signature may be witnessed, and we can complete the transaction."
This was done, and Corbitt departed with the drastic instrument in his possession.
Two days later, at ten o'clock in the morning, just as Stranleigh was finishing his breakfast, Peter Mackeller was announced, and shown in. His host greeted him cordially, rather shocked to notice how careworn his old friend had become since last he saw him.
"Sit down, Peter, sit down, and try some of these peaches."
