We had some difficulty in preventing Mr. Solder from making this report open and patent to the public, which premature disclosure might have interfered materially with the preparation of our traffic tables, not to mention the marketable value of the shares.  We therefore kept him steadily at work out of Glasgow, upon a very liberal allowance, to which, apparently, he did not object.

“Dunshunner,” said M’Corkindale to me one day, “I suspect that there is something going on about our railway more than we are aware of.  Have you observed that the shares are preternaturally high just now?”

“So much the better.  Let’s sell.”

“I did so this morning, both yours and mine, at two pounds ten shillings premium.”

“The deuce you did!  Then we’re out of the whole concern.”

“Not quite.  If my suspicions are correct, there’s a good deal more money yet to be got from the speculation.  Somebody had been bulling the stock without orders; and, as they can have no information which we are not perfectly up to, depend upon it, it is done for a purpose.  I suspect Sawley and his friends.  They have never been quite happy since the allocation; and I caught him yesterday pumping our broker in the back shop.  We’ll see in a day or two.  If they are beginning a bearing operation, I know how to catch them.”

And, in effect, the bearing operation commenced.  Next day, heavy sales were effected for delivery in three weeks; and the stock, as if water-logged, began to sink.  The same thing continued for the following two days, until the premium became nearly nominal.  In the meantime, Bob and I, in conjunction with two leading capitalists whom we let into the secret, bought up steadily every share that was offered; and at the end of a fortnight we found that we had purchased rather more than double the amount of the whole original stock.  Sawley and his disciples, who, as M’Corkindale suspected, were at the bottom of the whole transaction, having beared to their hearts’ content, now came into the market to purchase, in order to redeem their engagements.

I have no means of knowing in what frame of mind Mr. Sawley spent the Sunday, or whether he had recourse for mental consolation to Peden; but on Monday morning he presented himself at my door in full funeral costume, with about a quarter of a mile of crape swathed round his hat, black gloves, and a countenance infinitely more doleful than if he had been attending the interment of his beloved wife.

“Walk in, Mr. Sawley,” said I, cheerfully.  “What a long time it is since I have had the pleasure of seeing you—­too long indeed for brother directors!  How are Mrs. Sawley and Miss Selina?  Won’t you take a cup of coffee?”

“Grass, sir, grass!” said Mr. Sawley, with a sigh like the groan of a furnace-bellows.  “We are all flowers of the oven—­weak, erring creatures, every one of us.  Ah, Mr. Dunshunner, you have been a great stranger at Lykewake Terrace!”