"What'll happen if Wingate won't sell?" Dredlinton enquired.
"I never face disagreeable possibilities before the necessity arrives," was the calm reply. "Wingate is certain to sell. He won't have an idea why we want to buy, and I shall give him twenty thousand pounds profit."
"You'll find him a difficult customer," Dredlinton declared. "As you know, he hates us like poison."
"He may do that," Phipps acknowledged. "I've given him cause to in my life, and hope to again. But after all, he's a shrewd fellow. He's made money on the Stock Exchange this last week, and he's had the sense not to run up against us. He's not likely to refuse a clear twenty thousand pounds' profit on some shares he's not particularly interested in."
Dredlinton knocked the ash from his cigar. He leaned over towards his companion.
"Look here, Phipps," he said, "you can never reckon exactly on what a fellow like Wingate will do or what he won't do. It is just possible I may be able to help in this matter."
"Good man!" the other exclaimed. "How?"
Dredlinton hesitated for a moment. There was a particularly ugly smile upon his lips.
"Let us put it in this way," he said. "Supposing you fail altogether with Wingate?"
"Well?"