“She will be glad, I am sure,” answered Mr. Haswell, “for she told me the other day that she wants to consult you about some outdoor theatricals that she means to get up in July.”

“In July!” answered Alan with a little laugh.  “I wonder where I shall be in July.”

Then came another pause, which seemed to affect even Sir Robert’s nerves, for abandoning the papers, he walked down the room till he came to the golden object that has been described, and for the second time that day stood there contemplating it.

“This thing is yours, Vernon,” he said, “and now that our relations are at an end, I suppose that you will want to take it away.  What is its history?  You never told me.”

“Oh! that’s a long story,” answered Alan in an absent voice.  “My uncle, who was a missionary, brought it from West Africa.  I rather forget the facts, but Jeekie, my negro servant, knows them all, for as a lad my uncle saved him from sacrifice, or something, in a place where they worship these things, and he has been with us ever since.  It is a fetish with magical powers and all the rest of it.  I believe they call it the Swimming Head and other names.  If you look at it, you will see that it seems to swim between the shoulders, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Sir Robert, “and I admire the beautiful beast.  She is cruel and artistic, like—­like finance.  Look here, Vernon, we have quarrelled, and of course henceforth are enemies, for it is no use mincing matters, only fools do that.  But in a way you are being hardly treated.  You could get L10 apiece to-day for those shares of yours in a block on the market, and I am paying you L1.  I understand your scruples, but there is no reason why we should not square things.  This fetish of yours has brought me luck, so let’s do a deal.  Leave it here, and instead of a check for L1700, I will make you one out for L17,000.”

“That’s a very liberal offer,” said Vernon.  “Give me a moment to think it over.”

Then he also walked into the corner of the room and contemplated the golden mask that seemed to float between the frog-like shoulders.  The shimmering eyes drew his eyes, though what he saw in them does not matter.  Indeed he could never remember.  Only when he straightened himself again there was left on his mind a determination that not for seventeen or for seventy thousand pounds would he part with his ownership in this very unique fetish.

“No, thank you,” he said presently.  “I don’t think I will sell the Yellow God, as Jeekie calls it.  Perhaps you will kindly keep her here for a week or so, until I make up my mind where to stow her.”

Again Mr. Champers-Haswell uttered his windy whistle.  That a man should refuse L17,000 for a bit of African gold worth L100 or so, struck him as miraculous.  But Sir Robert did not seem in the least surprised, only very disappointed.

“I quite understand your dislike to selling,” he said.  “Thank you for leaving it here for the present to see us through the flotation,” and he laughed.