pocket, and began to write in a notebook, stopping now and again to consult some authority from the books before him.
In half an hour he had finished this work, had blotted and closed his book, and, pushing back his chair, gave himself up to reverie. They were not pleasant thoughts to judge by his face. He pulled from his inside pocket a leather case and opened it. From this he took a photograph. It was the picture of a girl of sixteen. It was a pretty face, a little sad, but attractive in its very weakness. He looked at it for a long time, shaking his head as at an unpleasant thought.
There came a gentle tap at the door, and quickly he replaced the photograph in his case, folded it, and returned it to his pocket as he rose to unlock the door.
John Minute, who entered, sniffed suspiciously.
"What beastly smells you have in here, Jasper!" he growled. "Why on earth don't they invent chemicals that are more agreeable to the nose?"
Jasper Cole laughed quietly.
"I'm afraid, sir, that nature has ordered it otherwise," he said.
"Have you finished?" asked his employer.
He looked at the still warm bowl of fluid suspiciously.
"It is all right, sir," said Jasper. "It is only noxious when it is boiling. That is why I keep the door locked."
"What is it?" asked John Minute, scowling down at the unoffending liquor.
"It is many things," said the other ruefully. "In point of fact, it is an experiment. The bowl contains one or two elements which will only mix with the others at a certain temperature, and as an experiment it is successful because I have kept the unmixable elements in suspension, though the liquid has gone cold."
"I hope you will enjoy your dinner, even though it has gone cold," grumbled John Minute.
"I didn't hear the bell, sir," said Jasper Cole. "I'm awfully sorry if I've kept you waiting."
They were the only two present in the big, black-looking dining room, and dinner was as usual a fairly silent meal. John Minute read the newspapers, particularly that portion of them which dealt with the latest fluctuations in the stock market.
"Somebody has been buying Gwelo Deeps," he complained loudly.
Jasper looked up.
"Gwelo Deeps?" he said. "But they are the shares—"
"Yes, yes," said the other testily; "I know. They were quoted at a shilling last week; they are up to two shillings and threepence. I've got five hundred thousand of them; to be exact," he corrected himself, "I've got a million of them, though half of them are not my property. I am almost tempted to sell."
"Perhaps they have found gold," suggested Jasper.
John Minute snorted.
"If there is gold in the Gwelo Deeps there are diamonds on the downs," he said scornfully. "By the way, the other five hundred thousand shares belong to May."
Jasper Cole raised his eyebrows as much in interrogation as in surprise.
John Minute leaned back in his chair and manipulated his gold toothpick.
"May Nuttall's father was the best friend I ever had," he said gruffly. "He lured me into the Gwelo Deeps against my better judgment We sank a bore three thousand feet and found everything except gold."
He gave one of his brief, rumbling chuckles.
"I wish that mine had been a success. Poor old Bill Nuttall! He helped me in some tight places."
"And I think you have done your best for his daughter, sir."
"She's a nice girl," said John Minute, "a dear girl. I'm not taken with girls." He made a wry face. "But May is as honest and as sweet as they make them. She's the sort of girl who looks you in the eye when she talks to you; there's no damned nonsense about May."
Jasper Cole concealed a smile.
"What the devil are you grinning at?" demanded John Minute.
"I also was thinking that there was no nonsense about her," he said.
John Minute swung round.
"Jasper," he said, "May is the kind of girl I would like you to marry; in fact, she is the girl I would like you to marry."
"I think Frank would have something to say about that," said the other, stirring his coffee.
"Frank!" snorted John Minute. "What the devil do I care about Frank? Frank has to do as he's told. He's a lucky young man and a bit of a rascal, too, I'm thinking. Frank would marry anybody with a pretty face. Why, if I hadn't interfered—"
Jasper looked up.
"Yes?"
"Never mind," growled John Minute.
As was his practice, he sat a long time over dinner, half awake and half asleep. Jasper had annexed one of the newspapers, and was reading it. This was the routine which marked every evening of his life save on those occasions when he made a visit to London. He was in the midst of an article by a famous scientist on radium emanation, when John Minute continued a conversation which he had broken off an hour ago.
"I'm worried about May sometimes."
Jasper put down his paper.
"Worried! Why?"
"I am worried. Isn't that enough?" growled the other. "I wish you wouldn't ask me a lot of questions, Jasper. You irritate me beyond endurance."
"Well, I'll take it that you're worried," said his confidential secretary patiently, "and that you've good reason."
"I feel responsible for her, and I hate responsibilities of all kinds. The responsibilities of children—"
He winced and changed the subject, nor did he return to it for several days.
Instead he opened up a new line.
"Sergeant Smith was here when I was out, I understand," he said.
"He came this afternoon—yes."
"Did you see him?"
Jasper nodded.
"What did he want?"
"He wanted to see you, as far as I could make out. You were saying the other day that he drinks."
"Drinks!" said the other scornfully. "He doesn't drink; he eats it. What do you think about Sergeant Smith?" he demanded.
"I think he is a very curious person," said the other frankly, "and I can't understand why you go to such trouble to shield him or why you send him money every week."
"One of these days you'll understand," said the other, and his prophecy was to be fulfilled.
