LITMIR.BIZ

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help worrying about things which may go wrong in his absence as he is to cure himself by an effort of will. Now, I can do for you what the doctor can't. I can control your affairs under a guarantee, my guarantee being that if money is lost in any transaction carried out on your behalf, I will make good the deficiency. If money is gained, it goes into your treasury. So, then, cast away all thought of business, knowing that if you were in the most superb health you could not accomplish more than I shall by giving you such a security."

      "Oh," said Mackeller, "I could not think of accepting so one-sided an arrangement as that! It is 'Heads I win, and tails you lose.'"

      "Precisely; but the agreement lasts only for a short period, six weeks at the most. Whatever losses I incur during that forty-two days will not matter a button to me, while it is imperative that the primary condition of your cure shall be achieved. I defy even a pessimistic growler like you to worry when you have accepted so advantageous a bargain. Now, we will regard that as settled, and I refuse to discuss it any more."

      ​"My dear Stranleigh," said Mackeller, speaking with some difficulty, "Fate seems determined to place me under obligations to you that I can never repay."

      "That's all right, Peter! Let us leave it with Fate. Now, will you be ready to depart with me for Nauheim to-morrow morning?"

      "Oh, that is another thing I wish to speak to you about!" said Mackeller. "I cannot accept such a sacrifice on your part. You would be bored to death at a health resort filled with invalids. You must not accompany me to Nauheim."

      "Friend Peter, I ask you to allow me to be a little selfish on occasion. I am going to Nauheim to prove whether or not it will cure me."

      "Cure you! Why, there's nothing wrong with your heart, is there?"

      "We read that the heart is deceitful, and desperately wicked, and that's what's the matter with mine. I learned its state, not from a doctor, but through introspection. An incident that occurred last week startled me. I engineered a deal against a man who asserted at the Camperdown Club that all the coups for which I had received credit were the result of luck and not of brains. I used to believe myself that it was luck, but I wasn't going to permit ​a man to state it publicly, so I gave him fair notice and attacked some of his favourite interests on the Stock Exchange. On Settlement Day he was thirty thousand pounds to the bad, while I was richer by that amount. This was all as it should be; nevertheless, I caught myself, for the first time in my life, feeling an unholy joy at the accumulating of money. That frightened me. I saw that if I went on I should become like all the rest, raking money together into my bank account not because I needed it, but for the mere pleasure of handling the rake. I also caught a glimpse of the haggard face of my opponent, and realised he had lost money he could not afford to lose, while I gained cash I didn't need. I understood for the first time the tension a man like my adversary must go through when a sum of even that size is in the balance. I had just determined before you came in to study the other side of the question.

      "It is said that all the wrecks in the Atlantic ultimately gather in the Saragossa Sea. I resolved to find the Saragossa Sea of business, and observe the human wreckage accumulated there. I want to see the men of affairs who may have been successful or unsuccessful financially. I want to see them, not with a hawk-like predatory gleam in their eyes, as I have ​met them in London and New York, but when they are paying the price. I want to see them not when they are paying in cash, but when they are paying with life. I want to see them, not gambling on the Stock Exchange, but when the grim figure of Death puts up the opposing stake. I want to see those men, a mere rumour of whose ill-health sets Wall Street in a tremble. I want to study the face of such a man when a famous specialist tells him he must cease all connection with the affairs of the world if he is to remain in it for another half-year."

      "My God!" groaned Peter, "that's what the doctor told me!"

      "Oh, you're all right, Mac! I'm quite certain that before two months are past you will be as well as ever again. You are engaged in legitimate business, not in gambling. But now you know why I am going to Nauheim with you. Will the nine o'clock express from Charing Cross to-morrow morning be too early for you?"

      "Too early for me?" cried Mackeller in amazement. "I should say not, but how about yourself?"

      "Oh, I'll make the effort on an important occasion like this! That will enable us to catch the Ostend-Vienna train-de-luxe which will drop us off at ​Frankfort. Still, it is a bit early, now you call my attention to it. Wait till I consult Ponderby."

      When this well-informed man came in, Stranleigh said ingratiatingly—

      "As you are in a measure responsible for our journey to Nauheim, perhaps you would be good enough in your own interests, for you are coming with me, to mention what train you prefer. I have been suggesting the sumptuous and speedy Ostend Vienna express. If that train does not rise to your ideas of luxury, I shall be glad to engage a special."

      Ponderby's seriousness was in no way affected by his master's pretence that the servant's conduct was the chief consideration. He slightly inclined his head in acknowledgment of the persiflage, then replied soberly—

      "I never recommend the Vienna express for any distance short of Nuremberg, where it arrives about eight in the morning. It reaches Frankfort at 3.29 a.m., an inconvenient——"

      "That's quite enough, Ponderby," interrupted his lordship. "Although I might for once consent to reach Charing Cross at 9 a.m., I am jiggered if I'll alight at Frankfort at three in the morning. Trot us out another train, Ponderby."

      "There's the afternoon train from Charing Cross, ​my lord, leaving at 2.20. Sleeping-car Ostend to Cologne. A run up the left bank of the Rhine by daybreak, arriving in Frankfort just before noon."

      "That's all right, Ponderby! I need not ask you to have everything ready by two o'clock to-morrow afternoon."

      "Thank you, my lord. Everything is ready at this moment."

      "Ponderby is mistaken. I'm not ready," said Mackeller querulously.

      Lord Stranleigh glanced at Peter with just the slightest touch of astonishment.

      "Why, my dear Mac, I've given you five hours extra. I understood you were willing to take the nine o'clock train, and now you don't need to depart until two."

      "Five hours are of no use to me; indeed, five days will probably prove inadequate. Half a dozen imperative affairs require my personal attention."

      "What are they?" enquired Stranleigh, with mild indifference.

      "I have points of disagreement with three men and two companies, any of which may lead to a suit at law unless diplomatically handled. If not settled before I leave, they will worry me all the time I am away."

      ​"Ah, we mustn't allow that," said his lordship. "Now, just oblige me with the names and addresses of your protagonists, the amount in dispute in each case, and also in each case the exact terms of a settlement satisfactory to you."

      Reluctantly Mackeller did as requested, Ponderby providing him with paper and pencil, his lordship contenting himself by lighting cigarette after cigarette as an aid to business. While Mackeller wrote out his list, Stranleigh requested Ponderby to telephone solicitor number one, asking him to call immediately at Stranleigh House. When Mackeller handed the list to his host, the latter rose languidly, nevertheless with a distinct air of dismissal. He had had enough of that glum Scotchman for this particular occasion.

      "Now, Peter," he said, "go home, and let nothing prevent your keeping the appointment with me at Charing Cross to-morrow afternoon at two. Bring your own valet with you. I am too selfish to spare Ponderby's ministrations. Besides, a crank like you would worry the sedate Ponderby into heart trouble before a week was past."

      "I'm no crank," cried Mackeller angrily, "but a man of business who likes to see affairs carried on in a ship-shape way."

      ​"Pardon me," replied Stranleigh, with the utmost placidness. "Unfortunately spoken language does not differentiate between terms as the written word does. I'm not using American

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