this is a strange mystery. Never was anything stranger dreamt of in your
philosophy. Are you agreeable?"

The mocking tone died out of the small, clear voice until it was
almost pleading.

"You have taken me at a disadvantage," Steel said. "And you know--"

"Everything. I am trying to save you from ruin. Fortune has played you
into my hands. I am perfectly aware that if you were not on the verge of
social extinction you would refuse my request. It is in your hands to
decide. You know that Beckstein, your creditor, is absolutely merciless.
He will get his money back and more besides. This is his idea of
business. To-morrow you will be an outcast--for the time, at any rate.
Your local creditors will be insolent to you; people will pity you or
blame you, as their disposition lies. On the other hand, you have but to
say the word and you are saved. You can go and see the Brighton
representatives of Beckstein's lawyers, and pay them in paper of the Bank
of England."

"If I was assured of your bona-fides," Steel murmured.

A queer little laugh, a laugh of triumph, came over the wires.

"I have anticipated that question. Have you Greenwich time about you?"

Steel responded that he had. It was five-and-twenty minutes past twelve.
He had quite ceased to wonder at any questions put to him now. It was all
so like one of his brilliant little extravanganzas.