‘My dear Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock, ‘there is no crying off in the City. We have contracted to deliver those shares, and we must deliver them, or pay the price—commercial ruin.’
‘The Stock Exchange,’ Sir Arthur blustered, ‘is one of the most infamous institutions——’
‘Yes,’ Simon Lock cut him short, ‘we know all about that. The Stock Exchange is quite right as long as we are making money; but when we begin to lose it immediately becomes infamous.’
Sir Arthur made an obvious effort to pull himself together.
‘What is your plan of campaign, Lock?’ he asked. ‘You must have some scheme in your head. What is it? Don’t trifle with me.’
‘Well,’ said Simon Lock, ‘we have a week.
That is our principal asset. Seven precious days in which to turn round. A hundred and sixty hours. In that time——’
There was a knock at the door, and a page entered with a telegram.
Simon Lock opened it hurriedly. The message ran:
‘Sorry must withdraw offer contained in our letter yesterday. Princesse shares now thirty-five.—Gaunt and Griffiths.’