"Materially?"
The confidential clerk shook his head.
"Only by points and fractions. The market is never sure of our principals. Sometimes when they have bought, most largely they have remained inactive for a few days beforehand, on purpose to depress prices."
"Do people believe in—their disappearance?"
"Not down here—in the City, I mean," Harrison replied grimly. "To be frank with you, the market suspects a plant."
"Let me," Wingate suggested, "give you my impression as to the disappearance of three of your directors."
"It would be very interesting," Harrison murmured, his eyes following the hopeless efforts of a huge fly to escape through the closed window.
"I picture them to myself," his visitor went on, "as indulging in a secret tour through the north of England—-a tour undertaken in order that they may realise personally whether their tactics have really produced the suffering and distress reported."
"Ah!"
"I picture them convinced. I ask myself what would be their natural course of action. Without a doubt, they would sell wheat."