On this morning of March, Mr. Steppe was delayed in the conduct of his business by the tardy arrival of the mail. There had been a heavy fog in the early hours and letter distribution had been delayed, so that it was well after half-past eight before the mail came to him.
Almost the first letter he opened was one from the secretary of Klein River. He read and growled. The writer was sorry that he could not carry out the definite instructions which he had received. Apparently Mr. Steppe was under a misapprehension. No shares held by Mr. Morelle had been transferred. There was a postscript in the secretary's handwriting:
"I have reason to believe that Mr. Morelle has been selling your stocks very heavily. He is certainly the principal operator in the attack upon Midwell Tractions which you complained about yesterday."
Jan Steppe, dropping the letter, pushed his chair back from the desk. A thousand shares in Klein River were at issue, he could not afford to tear bullheaded at Ronnie Morelle. So this was the bear—the seller of stock! Ronnie had done something like this before, and had been warned. Steppe let his fury cool before he got Merville on the wire. When, in answer to the summons, Merville arrived, Steppe was pacing the floor, his hands deep in his trousers pockets.
"Huh, Merville? Seen Ronald Morelle lately?"
"No: he hasn't been to the house for a very long time."
"Hasn't, huh? Like him?"
The doctor hesitated.
"Not particularly: he is a distant cousin of mine. You know that."
Steppe nodded. He was holding himself in check and the effort was a strain.