"I didn't leave the army, Mr. Jackson," answered his visitor; "it left
me; I was invalided out. They said I should never get my health back
after that last go of fever, but I did."

"Ah! bad luck, very bad luck, just at the beginning of what should have
been a big career, for I know they thought highly of you at the
War Office, that is, if they can think. Well, you have grown into a
fine-looking fellow, like your father, very, and someone else too," and
he sighed, running his fingers through his grizzled hair. "But you don't
remember her; she was before your time. Now let us get to business;
there's no time for reminiscences in this office. What is it, Alan, for
like other people I suppose that you want something?"

"It is about that Sahara flotation, Mr. Jackson," he began rather
doubtfully.

The old editor's face darkened. "The Sahara flotation! That
accursed----" and he ceased abruptly. "What have you, of all people in
the world, got to do with it? Oh! I remember. Someone told me that you
had gone into partnership with Aylward the company promoter, and that
little beast, Champers-Haswell, who really is the clever one. Well, set
it out, set it out."

"It seems, Mr. Jackson, that _The Judge_ has refused not only our
article, but also the advertisement of the company. I don't know much
about this side of the affair myself, but Sir Robert asked me if I would
come round and see if things couldn't be arranged."

"You mean that the man sent you to try and work on me because he knew