Dredlinton wrote in silence for several moments.  Then he read the document over to himself.

“’I, John Wingate—­all my shares in the Universal Steamship Company, and accept herewith as a deposit.’  There, Mr. Wingate, I think you will find that correct.  Phipps shall write you a cheque Immediately.”

He touched the bell.  Phipps entered almost at the same moment.

“I am pleased to tell you,” Dredlinton announced, “that I have induced Mr. Wingate to see reason.  He will sell the shares.”

“My congratulations!” Phipps ventured, with a broad smile.  “Mr. Wingate has made a most wise and acceptable decision.”

“Will you make out a cheque for ten thousand pounds as a deposit?” Dredlinton continued.  “Mr. Wingate will then sign the agreement I have drawn up on the lines of the memorandum you left on the desk.”

“With pleasure,” was the brisk reply.

Wingate took up a pen, glanced through the agreement, and was on the point of signing his name when a startled exclamation from the man by his side caused him to glance up.  The door had been opened.  Harrison was standing there, looking a little worried.  His tone was almost apologetic.

“The Countess of Dredlinton,” he announced.

The arrival of Josephine affected very differently the three men, to whom her coming was equally surprising.  Her husband, after an exclamation which savoured of profanity, stared at her with a doubtful and malicious frown upon his forehead.  With Wingate she exchanged one swift glance of mutual understanding.  Phipps, after his first start of surprise, welcomed her with the utmost respect and cordiality.

“My dear Lady Dredlinton,” he declared, “this is charming of you!  I had really given up hoping that you would ever honour us with your presence.”

“You can chuck all that, Phipps,” Dredlinton interrupted curtly.  “My wife hasn’t come here to bandy civilities.  What do you want, madam?” he demanded, moving a step nearer to her.

She held a slip of paper in her hand and unfolded it before their eyes.

“My husband,” she said, “has justly surmised that I have not come here in any spirit of friendliness, I have come to let Mr. Wingate know the contents of this cable, which arrived soon after my husband left the house this morning.  The message was in code, but, as Mr. Wingate’s name appeared, I have taken the trouble to transcribe it.”

“That’s more than you could do, my lady,” Dredlinton snarled.

“I can assure you that you are mistaken,” was the calm reply.  “You forget that you were not quite yourself last night, and that you left the B. & I. code book on the study table.  Please listen, Mr. Wingate.”

All the apparent good humour had faded from Phipps’ face.  He struck the table with his fist.

“Dredlinton,” he insisted, “you must use your authority.  That message is a private one.  It must not be read.”