middle-aged, pie-faced, golf-playing high-brow, that you wouldn't
keep out of a Sunday school. A touch of the drummer, too, to show
he has no dealings with your effete aristocracy. A languishing
silver-tongue that adores the sound of his own voice. As mild, you'd
say, as curds and cream.'

Blenkiron got out of his chair and stood above me. 'I tell you,
Dick, that man makes my spine cold. He hasn't a drop of good red
blood in him. The dirtiest apache is a Christian gentleman compared
to Moxon Ivery. He's as cruel as a snake and as deep as hell. But,
by God, he's got a brain below his hat. He's hooked and we're
playing him, but Lord knows if he'll ever be landed!'

'Why on earth don't you put him away?' I asked.

'We haven't the proof - legal proof, I mean; though there's
buckets of the other kind. I could put up a morally certain case, but
he'd beat me in a court of law. And half a hundred sheep would get
up in Parliament and bleat about persecution. He has a graft with
every collection of cranks in England, and with all the geese that
cackle about the liberty of the individual when the Boche is ranging
about to enslave the world. No, sir, that's too dangerous a game!
Besides, I've a better in hand, Moxon Ivery is the best-accredited
member of this State. His _dossier is the completest thing outside
the Recording Angel's little note-book. We've taken up his references
in every corner of the globe and they're all as right as
Morgan's balance sheet. From these it appears he's been a high-
toned citizen ever since he was in short-clothes. He was raised in
Norfolk, and there are people living who remember his father. He
was educated at Melton School and his name's in the register. He