“Money, you mean?”

“Personal aggrandisement.”

“Well,” answered Mr. Prohack, with a judicial, detached air.  “I’ve always found Spinner a very decent agreeable chap.”

“Oh, yes!  Agreed!  Agreed!  They’re all too confoundedly agreeable for anything, all that lot are.”

“But surely he’s honest?”

“Quite.  As straight a man as ever breathed, especially according to his own lights.  All his enterprises are absolutely what is known as ‘sound.’  They all make rich people richer, and in particular they make him richer, though I bet even he’s been feeling the pinch lately.  They all have.”

“Still, I expect old Spinner desires the welfare of the country just as much as any one else.  It’s not all money with him.”

“No.  But did you ever know Spinner touch anything that didn’t mean money in the first place?  I never did.  What he and his lot mean by the welfare of the country is the stability of the country as it is.  They see the necessity for development, improvement in the social scheme.  Oh, yes!  They see it and admit it.  Then they go to church, or they commune with heaven on the golf-course, and their prayer is:  ’Give us needed change, O Lord, but not just yet.’”

The pair moved to the morning-room.

“Look here,” said Mr. Prohack, lightly, ignoring the earnestness in F.F.’s tone.  “Supposing you had a bit of money, say eighty thousand pounds, and the chance to put it into one of old who-is-it’s schemes, what would you do?”

“I should be ashamed to have eighty thousand pounds,” F.F. replied with dark whispering passion.  “And in any case nothing would induce me to have any dealings with the gang.”

“Are they all bad?”

“They’re all bad, all!  They are all anti-social.  All!  They are all a curse to the country and to all mankind.”  F.F. had already rung the bell, and he now beckoned coldly to the waitress who entered the room.  “Everybody who supports the present Government is guilty of a crime against human progress.  Bring me a glass of that brown sherry I had yesterday—­you know the one—­and three small pieces of cheese.”

Mr. Prohack went away to the telephone, and got Paul Spinner at Smathe’s office.

“I only wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to come into your show, if Smathe can arrange for the money.  I’ve thought it all over carefully, and I’m yours, old boy.”

He hung up the receiver immediately.

* * * * *

IV

The excursion to the club had taken longer than Mr. Prohack had anticipated, and when he got back home it was nearly lunch-time.  No sign of an Eagle car or any other car in front of the house!  Mr. Prohack let himself in.  The sounds of a table being set came from the dining-room.  He opened the door there.  Machin met him at the door.  Each withdrew from the other, avoiding a collision.