Dr. Merville was biting his knuckles, a weak and vacillating man; Sault had no doubts as to this, and it hurt him every time he realized that this invertebrate creature was Beryl Merville's father. How and why had he come into the strange confederation?
"I can do nothing," the doctor was fretful, his voice jerky; he fixed and removed his pince-nez and fixed them again. "Nothing! I do not know why these people make inquiries. There was nothing dishonest in selling stock which you know will fall—it is a part of the process of speculation, isn't it, Sault? All the big houses work on secret information received or bought. If—if Moropulos or Steppe care to buy information, that is nobody's affair—"
"There may be an inquiry on the Stock Exchange," said Sault calmly. "Moropulos asked me to tell you that. The Johannesburg committee have taken up the matter and have called for information. You see, the manager has confessed."
"Confessed!" gasped the doctor and went white.
"So Mr. Divverly says. He has told the directors that Moropulos had the information a month before the directors."
The doctor sat down heavily on the nearest chair. "I don't see—that it affects us," he protested feebly, "there is no offense in getting a tip about a failing property, is there, Sault?"
"I don't know. Moropulos says it is conspiracy. They can prove it if—"
"If—?"
"If they find the letters which the manager wrote. Moropulos has them in his desk."
Merville sprang up. "Then they must be destroyed!" he cried violently. "It is madness to keep them—I had no idea—of course he must burn them. Go back and tell him to do this, Sault."