“Excuse me, sir; we can’t hear a word down here.”

‘Ah!’ thought the secretary, ‘I was expecting that.’

The chairman went on, undisturbed.  But several shareholders now rose, and the same speaker said testily:  “We might as well go home.  If the chairman’s got no voice, can’t somebody read for him?”

The chairman took a sip of water, and resumed.  Almost all in the last six rows were now on their feet, and amid a hubbub of murmurs the chairman held out to the secretary the slips of his speech, and fell heavily back into his chair.

The secretary re-read from the beginning; and as each sentence fell from his tongue, he thought:  ‘How good that is!’ ‘That’s very clear!’ ’A neat touch!’ ‘This is getting them.’  It seemed to him a pity they could not know it was all his composition.  When at last he came to the Pillin sale he paused for a second.

“I come now to the measure of policy to which I made allusion at the beginning of my speech.  Your Board has decided to expand your enterprise by purchasing the entire fleet of Pillin & Co., Ltd.  By this transaction we become the owners of the four steamships Smyrna, Damascus, Tyre, and Sidon, vessels in prime condition with a total freight-carrying capacity of fifteen thousand tons, at the low inclusive price of sixty thousand pounds.  Gentlemen, de l’audace, toujours de l’audace!”—­it was the chairman’s phrase, his bit of the speech, and the secretary did it more than justice.  “Times are bad, but your Board is emphatically of the opinion that they are touching bottom; and this, in their view, is the psychological moment for a forward stroke.  They confidently recommend your adoption of their policy and the ratification of this purchase, which they believe will, in the not far distant future, substantially increase the profits of the Company.”  The secretary sat down with reluctance.  The speech should have continued with a number of appealing sentences which he had carefully prepared, but the chairman had cut them out with the simple comment:  “They ought to be glad of the chance.”  It was, in his view, an error.

The director who had combed his beard now rose—­a man of presence, who might be trusted to say nothing long and suavely.  While he was speaking the secretary was busy noting whence opposition was likely to come.  The majority were sitting owl-like-a good sign; but some dozen were studying their copies of the report, and three at least were making notes—­Westgate, for, instance, who wanted to get on the Board, and was sure to make himself unpleasant—­the time-honoured method of vinegar; and Batterson, who also desired to come on, and might be trusted to support the Board—­the time-honoured method of oil; while, if one knew anything of human nature, the fellow who had complained that he might as well go home would have something uncomfortable to say.  The director finished his remarks, combed his beard with his fingers, and sat down.