absolutely necessary and not a moment before, by the transfer of some
portion of the capital just raised for yet another company. And so on,
ad infinitum. There were moments when it seemed to Mr. Windlebird that
he had solved the problem of Perpetual Promotion.

The only thing that can stop a triumphal progress like Mr. Windlebird's
is when some coarse person refuses to play to the rules, and demands
ready money instead of shares in the next venture. This had happened
now, and it had flattened Mr. Windlebird like an avalanche.

He was a philosopher, but he could not help feeling a little galled
that the demand which had destroyed him had been so trivial. He had
handled millions--on paper, it was true, but still millions--and here
he was knocked out of time by a paltry twenty thousand pounds.

"Are you absolutely sure that nothing can be done?" persisted Mrs.
Windlebird. "Have you tried every one?"

"Every one, dear moon-of-my-delight--the probables, the possibles, the
highly unlikelies, and the impossibles. Never an echo to the minstrel's
wooing song. No, my dear, we have got to take to the boats this time.
Unless, of course, some one possessed at one and the same time of
twenty thousand pounds and a very confiding nature happens to drop from
the clouds."

As he spoke, an aeroplane came sailing over the tops of the trees
beyond the tennis-lawn. Gracefully as a bird it settled on the smooth
turf, not twenty yards from where he was seated.

* * * * *