“What’s you little game at the present moment, Orme?”

Sir Stephen looked at him interrogatively, as if he were still rather confused by the terrible scene which they had gone through.

“Why have you built this place and got all these people here?” said Falconer.  “I know enough of Wirsch and Griffinberg and the Beltons to be aware chat they wouldn’t come down to the lakes at this time of the year unless there was something worth coming for, something—­and a pretty good sum—­to be made.”

Sir Stephen looked down at the floor for a moment, as if he were considering; then he leant forward.

“I’ll tell you,” he said, with an air of decision, and with a return of his usual coolness and aplomb.  A dash of colour rose to his face, his fine eyes grew bright; he was the “man of affairs,” the great financier again.  “It’s Africa this time,” he said, in a low voice, and with a glance at the door.  “I’ve another treaty—­”

Falconer nodded.

“I am making for a concession—­a charter from the government.”  Falconer nodded again.

“And I want a railway from Danville to Bualbec.”  His voice almost sank to a whisper.  “Griffinberg, Wirsch, and the rest are with me—­or nearly so—­I have got them down to clench the matter.  There are millions in it—­if I can bring it off; there is what is worth more than millions to me—­”

Falconer nodded.

—­“A peerage for Sir Stephen Orme,” said Falconer, with a grim smile.

“For Sir Stephen Orme’s boy!” said Sir Stephen, with a flush, and a flash of the dark eyes.  “It is for his sake that I am making this last throw; for my boy’s, Falconer.  For myself I am content—­why shouldn’t I be?  But for him—­ah, well, you’ve seen him!  You’ll understand!”

Falconer leant back and smoked in silence.

“Plaistow is working the Colonial Office, the Beltons are feeling their way in the city; Wirsch—­but you know how the thing is done!  I’ve got them down here that they may work it quietly, that I may have them under my eye—­”

“And the lords and ladies—­they’re to have a finger in the pie because, though they can’t help you in the African business, they can in the matter of the peerage?”

Sir Stephen smiled.  “You’ll stand in with us, Falconer?  Don’t refuse me!  Let me make some reparation—­some atonement for the past!” He rose and stood smiling, an imposing figure with his white hair and brilliant eyes.  Falconer got up slowly and stiffly.

“Thanks.  I’ll think it over.  It’s a big thing, as you say, and it will either make you—­”

—­“Or break me!” said Sir Stephen, but he laughed confidently.

Falconer nodded.

“I’ll go up now,” he said.

Sir Stephen went to the door with him, and held out his hand.

“Good-night, Falconer!” he said.  “Thank you—­for my boy’s sake!”

Falconer took the warm hand in his cold one and held it for a moment, then dropped it.