“You cad!” Wingate exclaimed.  “Your wife simply came to beg my intervention with the management to secure her a room in the—­”

“Chuck it!” Dredlinton interrupted.  “You’re a man of the world.  You know very well that I can get a divorce, and I’m going to have it—­if I want it.  I am meeting Flossie Lane at midday at my solicitor’s.  What have you got to say about that?”

“That if you keep your word it will be a very happy release for your wife,” Wingate replied drily.

Dredlinton leaned across the desk.  There was an almost satyrlike grin upon his face.

“You are a fool,” he said.  “My wife wants to get rid of me—­you and she have talked that over, I have no doubt—­but not this way.  She is a proud woman, Wingate.  The one desire of her life is to be free, but you can take this from me—­if I bring my suit and gain my decree on the evidence I shall put before the court—–­don’t forget Flossie Lane, will you?—­she’ll never raise her head again.  That is what I am going to do, unless—­”

He paused.

“Unless what?” Wingate demanded.

“Unless you sell those shares to Peter Phipps.”

Wingate was silent for a few moments.  He studied his companion appraisingly.

“Dredlinton,” he said at last, “I did you an injustice.”

“I am glad that you are beginning to appreciate the fact,” the other replied, with some dignity.  “I welcome your confession.”

“I looked upon you,” Wingate continued, “as only an ordinary, weak sort of scoundrel.  I find you one of the filthiest blackguards who ever crawled upon the earth.”

Dredlinton scowled for a moment and then laughed in a hard, unnatural sort of way.

“I can’t lose my temper with you, Wingate—­upon my word, I can’t.  You are so delightfully crude and refreshing.  Your style, however, is a little more suited to your own country, don’t you think—­the Far West and that sort of thing.  Shall I draft a little agreement that you will sell the shares to Phipps?  Just a line or two will be sufficient.”

Wingate made no reply.  He walked across to the frosted window and gazed out of the upper panes up to the sky.  Presently he returned.

“Where is your wife?” he asked.

“She telephoned from the Milan this morning, discovered that the young lady to whom she had such unfounded objections had left, and returned in a taxi just before I started for the office.”

“Supposing I sell these shares?”

“Then,” Dredlinton promised, “I shall endeavour to forget the incident of last night.  Further than that, I might indeed be tempted, if it were made worth my while, to provide my wife with a more honourable mode of escape.”

“You’re wonderful,” Wingate declared, nodding his head quickly.  “What are you going to get for blackmailing me into selling those shares?”

“Two thousand pounds.”

“Get along and earn it, then.”