‘Now, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig when they were seated, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘You said from your bedroom window that you were expecting me,’ Simon Lock replied. ‘Therefore you are probably aware of the nature of my business, since I have given you no warning of my arrival.’
Mr. Lock’s face disclosed the fact that he had summoned all his faculties—and he was a man of many faculties—to the task that lay before him. Various things had irked and annoyed him that morning, but in order to retain the mien of diplomacy he was compelled to seem to ignore them. There could be no doubt, for example, that he bitterly resented the presence of Richard at this interview, but what could he do save swallow the affront? The whole situation was a humiliating one for Simon Lock, who was much more accustomed to dictate terms than to have terms dictated to him. Still, it was to his credit as a man of nerve and a man of resource that he was able to adapt himself to unusual circumstances. He had a triple feat to perform—to keep his dignity, to be diplomatic, and to be firm. He had come with a precise end in view, and he was willing to sacrifice everything to that end. Behold him, therefore, in the drawing-room at Queen’s Farm—him, the demi-god of the City, trying to show a pleasant and yet a formidable face under extraordinary trials.
‘It is true,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that I expected you. But it was my instinct more than anything else that led me to expect you. You come, I presume, about the shares of La Princesse Mine.’
‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock.
‘You have contracted to sell more of these shares than you can supply, and the price has risen?’
‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock, smiling cautiously.
Raphael Craig was, so far, courtesy itself.
‘And you wish to get the bargain cancelled?’
‘I am prepared to pay for the accommodation.’