"At eleven o'clock this morning Illinois Central had fallen three more points, and I had no further interest in the market.

Then one of your brokers--" He leaned farther forward on the table and stared brightly at the older man, showing an edge of even teeth, under the receding upper lip: "How long have your people been watching me ?" "Long enough to give me what information I required." "Then you really _have_ had me watched ?" "I have chosen to keep in touch with your--career, Berkley." Berkley's upper lip again twitched unpleasantly; but, when at length he spoke, he spoke more calmly than before and his mobile features were in pallid repose.
"One of your brokers--Cone--stopped me.

I was too confused to understand what he wanted of me.

I went with him to your attorneys--" Like lightning the snarl twitched his mouth again; he made as though to rise, and controlled himself in the act.
"Where are the originals of those letters ?" he managed to say at last.
"In this house." "Am I to have them ?" "I think so." "So do I," said the young man with a ghastly smile.

"I'm quite sure of it." Colonel Arran regarded him in surprise.
"There is no occasion for violence in this house, Berkley." "Where are the letters ?" "Have you any doubts concerning what my attorneys have told you?
The originals are at your immediate disposal if you wish." Then Berkley struck the table fiercely, and stood up, as claret splashed and trembling crystal rang.
"That's all I want of _you_!" he said.