"Nay," answered Mr. Werner. "Mortomley has been your bosom friend it seems to me. Certainly, had he asked my advice a few years ago, we four would not have had the arrangement of his destiny to-day. And as for bosom friends," he added in a lower tone, "a businessman has none, and no friends either for that matter. Such luxuries are not for us."
"Do, for heaven's sake, let us keep to the matter in hand," exclaimed Mr. Benning. "Will you name an accountant or shall I?"
The manager looked at Mr. Kleinwort, and then once again the German led his, so good friend, out of the room.
Mr. Benning watched the pair till the door closed behind them, and then turning to Mr. Werner, said,
"Will you allow me to ask you one question? How does it happen so astute a man as you has anything to do with St. Vedast Wharf?"
"Trade, like poverty, makes one acquainted with strange bedfellows," was the reply.
"That is very true; but why are you mixing yourself up with this man Mortomley?"
Mr. Werner paused a moment before he answered, and a dull red streak appeared on each side his face, while he hesitated about his answer.
Then he looked his interlocutor straight in the eyes and said,