At eleven Mr. Wylie called on Gabriel Cassilis again. He brought with him his pamphlet.
"I have read it already," said Mr. Cassilis. "It is on the whole well done, and expresses my own view, in part. But I think you have piled it up too much towards the end."
"Why did you not give me clearer instructions, then?"
"I dare say it will have a success. Meantime," said the financier, pushing over a little bag, "you can count that. There ought to be fifty sovereigns. Good-morning, Mr. Wylie."
"Good-morning, Mr. Cassilis. I don't know"—he turned the bag of gold over in his hands—"I don't know; thirty years ago I should have looked with suspicion on such a job as this; thirty years ago——"
"Good-morning, Mr. Wylie."
"Thirty years ago I should have thought that a man who could afford fifty pounds for a pamphlet——"
"Well?"
"Well—that he had his little game. And I should have left that man to play it by himself. Good-morning again, Mr. Cassilis. You know my address, I believe, in case of any other little job turning up."
That afternoon Eldorado stock went down. It was lucky for Mr. Gabriel Cassilis, because he wished to buy—and did—largely.