"What about jute?" asked the young man.

"Jute," said Bones with relish, "or, as we call it, Corcharis

capsilaris, is the famous jute tree. I have always been interested in

jute and all that sort of thing---- But you know what to say better

than I can tell you. You can also say that I'm young--no, don't say

that. Put it like this: 'Mr. Tibbetts, though apparently

young-looking, bears on his hardened old face the marks of years spent

in the service of his country. There is a sort of sadness about his

funny old eyes----' You know what to say, old thing."

"I know," said the journalist, rising. "You'll see this in the next

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edition, Mr. Tibbetts."

When the young man had gone, Hamilton staggered across to him.

"Bones," he said, in a hollow voice, "you've never bought this stuff

for a million?"

"A million's a bit of an exaggeration, dear old sportsman," said Bones.

"As a matter of fact, it's about half that sum, and it needn't be paid

for a month. Here is the contract." He smacked his lips and smacked

the contract, which was on the table, at the same time. "Don't get

alarmed, don't get peevish, don't get panicky, don't be a wicked old

flutterer, Ham, my boy!" he said. "I've reckoned it all out, and I

shall make a cool fifty thousand by this time next week."

"What will you pay for it?" asked Hamilton, in a shaky voice. "I mean,

how much a ton?"

Bones mentioned a figure, and Hamilton jotted down a note.

He had a friend, as it happened, in the jute trade--the owner of a big

mill in Dundee--and to him he dispatched an urgent telegram. After

that he examined the contract at leisure. On the fourth page of that

interesting document was a paragraph, the seventh, to this effect: "Either parties to this contract may, for any reason whatsoever, by

giving notice either to the Ministry of Supplies, Department 9, or to

the purchaser at his registered office, within twenty-four hours of the

signing of this contract, cancel the same."

He read this over to Bones.

"That's rum," he said. "What is the idea?"

"My jolly old captain," said Bones in his lordly way, "how should I

know? I suppose it's in case the old Government get a better offer.

Anyway, dear old timidity, it's a contract that I'm not going to

terminate, believe me!"

The next afternoon Bones and Hamilton returned from a frugal lunch at a

near-by tavern, and reached the imposing entrance of the building in

which New Schemes Limited was housed simultaneously--or perhaps it

would be more truthful to say a little later--than a magnificent

limousine. It was so far ahead of them that the chauffeur had time to

descend from his seat, open the highly-polished door, and assist to the

honoured sidewalk a beautiful lady in a large beaver coat, who carried

under her arm a small portfolio.




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