'MR. BEAPLE YEO,
Financier.'
Every now and then there came in the stranger's voice an intonation that seemed familiar to Jeremiah; in itself nothing decided, but sufficient, like a scent, to recall something, yet not pronounced enough to enable him to determine what it was in the past that was recalled. Again Jeremiah looked at the gentleman, and his attention was all at once directed to his great-coat.
'How odd—how strange!' he muttered.
'What, sir? what is strange?' asked the gentleman. 'That such a splendid opportunity of making a fortune should lie at our feet—lie literally at our feet, without figure of speech—for there it is, in the seaweed, here it is, in the air we inhale, now humming in the grass of the down? Perhaps you may like——' he fumbled in his great-coat pocket.
'Excuse me,' said Jeremiah, 'that overcoat bears the most extraordinary resemblance to——' but he checked himself.
'Made by my tailor in New Bond Street,' said Mr. Yeo. 'Here, sir, is the prospectus. This is a speculation on which not only large capitalists may embark, but also the widow can contribute her mite, and reap as they have sown, the capitalist receiving in proportion as the widow—as the widow. I myself, guarantee eighteen and a half per cent. That I guarantee on my personal security—but I reckon that the return will be at the rate of twenty-four decimal three—the decimal is important, because the calculation has been strict.'
Mr. Pennycomequick ran his eye over the list of managers.
'You will see,' said Mr. Yeo, 'that our chairman is the Earl of Schofield. His lordship has taken up a hundred and twenty shares of £10 each—the first call is for five shillings per share.'
'Earl Schofield!' murmured Mr. Pennycomequick. 'Earl Schofield! Earl Schofield! I do not know much of the peerage—not in my line—but the name is familiar to me. Earl Schofield!—Excuse me, but there was a great scoundrel——'