“Not in the least,” Vine answered.  “You see it is something like this.  You know that since I became editor and part proprietor of the Post I have tried to take up a strong position with regard to our modern commercial methods.”

“You mean,” his host interrupted, “that you have taken sides against the Trusts?”

“Exactly!” Vine answered.  “Of course, from a money-making point of view I know that it was a mistake.  The paper scarcely pays its way now, and I seem to find enemies wherever I turn, and in whatever way I seek to develop it as a proprietor.  However, we have held our own so far, although I don’t mind telling you that we have been hard pushed.  Well, a few days before I left New York there came into my hands, I won’t say how, a most extraordinary document.  Of course, you know within the last few months the Trusts have provoked an enmity far greater and more dangerous than mine.”

His host nodded.

“I should say so,” he answered.  “I am told that you are going to see very exciting times over there.”

“The first step,” Vine continued, “has already been taken.  There is a bill coming before the Senate very shortly, which, if it is passed into law, will strike at the very foundation of all these great corporations.  Five of the men most likely to be affected met together one night, and four of them signed a document, guaranteeing a fund of one million dollars for the purpose of bribing certain members of the Senate, who had already been approached, and whose names are also upon the document.  You must not ask me how or in what manner, but that document has come into my possession.”

Vine’s companion looked at him in astonishment.

“Are you sure of your facts, Vine?” he asked.  “Are you sure that the thing is not a forgery?”

“Absolutely certain!” Vine answered.

“Then you know, of course,” his host continued, “that you hold all these men in the hollow of your hand.”

“Yes, I know it,” Vine answered, “and so do they!  They have offered me a million dollars already for the document, but I have declined to sell.  While I considered what to do, I thought it better, for more reasons than one, that I did not remain in New York.”

“I should say so,” the other remarked softly.  “This is a big thing, Vine.  I could have scarcely realized it.”

He rose to his feet, and took a few quick steps backwards and forwards.  The two men were sitting in wicker chairs on a small flat space on the roof of the American Embassy in Ormonde Square.  Vine’s host, tall, with shrewd, kindly face, the stoop of a student, and the short uneven footsteps of a near-sighted man, was the ambassador himself.  He had been more famous, perhaps, in his younger days, as Philip Deane, the man of letters, than as a diplomatist.  His appointment to London had so far been a complete success.  He had shown himself possessed of shrewd and far-reaching