And there was that military man, Major O’Bally, who could not help speaking, if only to second the re-election of the auditor, and who sometimes caused serious consternation by taking toasts—­proposals rather—­out of the hands of persons who had been flattered with little slips of paper, entrusting the said proposals to their care.

These made up the lot, together with four or five strong, silent shareholders, with whom Soames could sympathize—­men of business, who liked to keep an eye on their affairs for themselves, without being fussy—­good, solid men, who came to the City every day and went back in the evening to good, solid wives.

Good, solid wives!  There was something in that thought which roused the nameless uneasiness in Soames again.

What should he say to his uncle?  What answer should he make to this letter?

. . . .  “If any shareholder has any question to put, I shall be glad to answer it.”  A soft thump.  Old Jolyon had let the report and accounts fall, and stood twisting his tortoise-shell glasses between thumb and forefinger.

The ghost of a smile appeared on Soames’ face.  They had better hurry up with their questions!  He well knew his uncle’s method (the ideal one) of at once saying:  “I propose, then, that the report and accounts be adopted!” Never let them get their wind—­shareholders were notoriously wasteful of time!

A tall, white-bearded man, with a gaunt, dissatisfied face, arose: 

“I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman, in raising a question on this figure of L5000 in the accounts.  ‘To the widow and family"’ (he looked sourly round), “‘of our late superintendent,’ who so—­er—­ill-advisedly (I say—­ill-advisedly) committed suicide, at a time when his services were of the utmost value to this Company.  You have stated that the agreement which he has so unfortunately cut short with his own hand was for a period of five years, of which one only had expired—­I—­”

Old Jolyon made a gesture of impatience.

“I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman—­I ask whether this amount paid, or proposed to be paid, by the Board to the er—­deceased—­is for services which might have been rendered to the Company—­had he not committed suicide?”

“It is in recognition of past services, which we all know—­you as well as any of us—­to have been of vital value.”

“Then, sir, all I have to say is that the services being past, the amount is too much.”

The shareholder sat down.

Old Jolyon waited a second and said:  “I now propose that the report and—­”

The shareholder rose again:  “May I ask if the Board realizes that it is not their money which—­I don’t hesitate to say that if it were their money....”

A second shareholder, with a round, dogged face, whom Soames recognised as the late superintendent’s brother-in-law, got up and said warmly:  “In my opinion, sir, the sum is not enough!”