"Oh, Mrs. Windlebird," he cried, "It's all right after all."

Mrs. Windlebird sat back in her chair without answering.

"It's all right for every one," screamed Roland joyfully. "Why, if I've
made a couple of hundred thousand, what must Mr. Windlebird have
netted. It says here that he is the largest holder. He must have pulled
off the biggest thing of his life."

He thought for a moment.

"The chap I'm sorry for," he said meditatively, "is Mr. Windlebird's
pal. You know. The fellow whom Mr. Windlebird persuaded to sell all his
shares to me."

A faint moan escaped from his hostess's pale lips. Roland did not hear
it. He was reading the cricket news.





THE EPISODE OF THE THEATRICAL VENTURE

Third of a Series of Six Stories
[First published in _Pictorial Review_, July 1916]


It was one of those hard, nubbly rolls. The best restaurants charge you
sixpence for having the good sense not to eat them. It hit Roland Bleke