a bit, not a bit!" bellowed the intruder. "Honest John, I am--John Staines. You have heard of me?"
"I have," said Bones, and the visitor was so surprised that he showed it.
"You have?" he said, not without a hint of incredulity.
"Yes," said Bones calmly. "Yes, I have just heard you say it, Honest John Staines. Any relation to John o' Gaunt?"
This made the visitor look up sharply.
"Ha, ha!" he said, his laugh lacking sincerity. "You're a bit of a joker, Mr. Tibbetts. Now, what do you say to this? This is Stivvins' Wharf and Warehouse. Came into the market on Saturday, and I bought it on Saturday. The only river frontage which is vacant between Greenwich and Gravesend. Stivvins, precious metal refiner, went broke in the War, as you may have heard. Now, I am a man of few words and admittedly a speculator. I bought this property for fifteen thousand pounds. Show me a profit of five thousand pounds and it's yours."
Before Bones could speak, he stopped him with a gesture.
"Let me tell you this: if you like to sit on that property for a month, you'll make a sheer profit of twenty thousand pounds. You can afford to do it--I can't. I tell you there isn't a vacant wharfage between Greenwich and Gravesend, and here you have a warehouse with thirty thousand feet of floor-space, derricks--derrick, named after the hangman of that name: I'll bet you didn't know that?--cranes, everything in---- Well, it's not in apple-pie order," he admitted, "but it won't take much to make it so. What do you say?"
Bones started violently.
"Excuse me, old speaker, I was thinking of something else. Do you mind saying that all over again?"
Honest John Staines swallowed something and repeated his proposition.
Bones shook his head violently.
"Nothing doing!" he said. "Wharves and ships--_no!_"
But Honest John was not the kind that accepts refusal without protest.
"What I'll do," said he confidentially, "is this: I'll leave the matter for twenty-four hours in your hands."
"No, go, my reliable old wharf-seller," said Bones. "I never go up the river under any possible circumstances---- By Jove, I've got an idea!"
He brought his knuckly fist down upon the unoffending desk, and Honest John watched hopefully.
"Now, if--yes, it's an idea!"
Bones seized paper, and his long-feathered quill squeaked violently.
"That's it--a thousand members at ten pounds a year, four hundred bedrooms at, say, ten shillings a night---- How many is four hundred times ten shillings multiplied by three hundred and sixty-five? Well, let's say twenty thousand pounds. That's it! A club!"
"A club?" said Honest John blankly.
"A river club. You said Greenhithe--that's somewhere near Henley, isn't it?"
Honest John sighed.
"No, sir," he said gently, "it's in the other direction--toward the sea."
Bones dropped his pen and pinched his lip in an effort of memory.
"Is it? Now, where was I thinking about? I know--Maidenhead! Is it near Maidenhead?"
"It's in the opposite direction from London," said the perspiring Mr. Staines.
"Oh!"
Bones's interest evaporated.
"No good to me, my old speculator. Wharves! Bah!"
He shook his head violently, and Mr. Staines aroused himself.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Tibbetts," he said simply; "I'll leave the plans with you. I'm going down into the country for a night. Think it over. I'll call to-morrow afternoon."
Bones still shook his head.
"No go, nothin' doin'. Finish this palaver, dear old Honesty!"
"Anyway, no harm is done," urged Mr. Staines. "I ask you, is there any harm done? You have the option for twenty-four hours. I'll roll the plans up so that they won't be in the way. Good morning!"
He was out of the office door before Bones could as much as deliver the preamble to the stern refusal he was preparing.
At three o'clock that afternoon came two visitors. They sent in a card bearing the name of a very important Woking firm of land agents, and they themselves were not without dignity of bearing.
There was a stout gentleman and a thin gentleman, and they tiptoed into the presence of Bones with a hint of reverence which was not displeasing.
"We have come on a rather important matter," said the thin gentleman. "We understand you have this day purchased Stivvins' Wharf----"
"Staines had no right to sell it?" burst in the stout man explosively. "A dirty mean trick, after all that he promised us! It is just his way of getting revenge, selling the property to a stranger!"
"Mr. Sole"--the thin gentleman's voice and attitude were eloquent of reproof--"_please_ restrain yourself! My partner is annoyed," he explained "and not without reason. We offered fifty thousand pounds for Stivvins', and Staines, in sheer malice, has sold the property--which is virtually necessary to our client--literally behind our backs. Now, Mr. Tibbetts, are you prepared to make a little profit and transfer the property to us?"
"But----" began Bones.
"We will give you sixty thousand," said the explosive man. "Take it or leave it--sixty thousand."
"But, my dear old Boniface," protested Bones, "I haven't bought the property--really and truly I haven't. Jolly old Staines wanted me to buy it, but I assure you I didn't."
The stout man looked at him with glazed eyes, pulled himself together, and suggested huskily:
"Perhaps you will buy it--at his price--and transfer it to us?"
"But why? Nothing to do with me, my old estate agent and auctioneer. Buy it yourself. Good afternoon. _Good_ afternoon!"
He ushered them out in a cloud of genial commonplaces.
In the street they looked at one another, and then beckoned Mr. Staines, who was waiting on the other side of the road.
"This fellow is either as wide as Broad Street or he's a babe in arms," said the explosive man huskily.
"Didn't he fall?" asked the anxious Staines.
"Not noticeably," said the thin man. "This is your scheme, Jack, and if I've dropped four thousand over that wharf, there's going
