On the second evening of Singleton’s visit, he was talking to Sylvia rather confidentially in the drawing-room, where Mrs. Lansing had left them, while Herbert was seated at a table in his library with a cigar in his hand and a litter of papers in front of him.  He was thinking hard, and rubber occupied the foremost place in his mind.  He was a director of a company, formed to exploit a strip of rubber-bearing territory in the tropics, which had hitherto been successful; but he felt that it was time to retire from the position and realize the profit on his shares.  There was another company he and some associates had arranged to launch, but he was now very doubtful whether this would be wise.  Rubber exploitations were overdone; there were signs that investors were losing their confidence.  Withdrawal, however, was difficult, for it must be quietly effected without breaking prices by any unusual sales.  It was therefore desirable that other holders should cling to their shares, and any fresh buying by outsiders would, of course, be so much the better.  This was one reason why he had suggested a purchase to Bland.

Opening a book, he noted the amount of stock standing in George’s name.  This had been purchased by Herbert, who had been given such authority by his cousin at a time when the directors’ position needed strengthening, though it had been necessary to dispose of sound shares, yielding a small return.  The prompt sale of this stock would secure George a moderate profit, but after some consideration Herbert decided that it should remain.  He had no wish that George should suffer, but his own interests stood first.  Then he carefully studied several sheets of figures, which confirmed his opinion that a drop in the value of the stock he owned might be looked for shortly, though he thought very few people realized this yet.  It was time for effective but cautious action.  He must unload as soon as possible.

By and by he rang a bell, and passed across the cigar box when Singleton came in and sat down opposite him.  He was a wiry, dark-haired man with an intelligent face which had grown rather white and haggard in the tropics.  Just now he felt grateful to his host, who had made his stay very pleasant and had given him an opportunity for meeting Sylvia.

“I suppose you have read my report on your new tropical property?” he said.

“Yes,” answered Herbert, picking up a lengthy document.  “I’ve given it some thought.  On the whole, it isn’t optimistic.”

Singleton pondered this.  He had learned a little about company floating, and was willing to oblige his host as far as he honestly could.  Lansing had enabled him to undertake a search for some rare examples of tropical flora by paying him a handsome fee for the report.

“Well,” he said, “there is some good rubber in your territory, as I have stated.”

“But not readily accessible?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say it is.”