Two only of his intimates had any practical acquaintance with methods of speculation, and their experiences hitherto were not such as to suggest his seeking advice from them.  Hugh Carnaby might or might not reap profit from his cycle factory; as yet it had given him nothing but worry and wavering hopes.  Cecil Morphew had somehow got into better circumstances, had repaid the loan of fifty pounds, and professed to know much more about speculation than in the days when he made money only to lose it again; but it was to be feared that Cecil associated with people of shady character, and might at any moment come to grief in a more or less squalid way.  He confessed that there was a mystery in his life —­ something he preferred not to speak of even with an old friend.

Oddly enough, Carnaby and Morphew wrote both at the same time, wishing to see him, and saying that they had cheering news to impart.  Amid his perplexities, which were not concerned with money alone, Harvey welcomed this opportunity of forgetting himself for a few hours.  He agreed to lunch with Hugh at a restaurant (Carnaby would have nothing to do with clubs), and bade Morphew to dinner at the Metropolitan.

It was a day of drizzle and slush, but Harvey had got over his sore throat, and in ordinary health defied the elements.  Unlike himself, Carnaby came a little late for his appointment, and pleaded business with a ‘blackguard’ in the City.  Rheums and bronchial disorders were to him unknown; he had never possessed an umbrella, and only on days like this donned a light overcoat to guard himself against what he called ‘the sooty spittle’ of a London sky.  Yet he was not the man of four or five years ago.  He had the same appearance of muscularity, the same red neck and mighty fists; but beneath his eyes hung baggy flesh that gave him a bilious aspect, his cheeks were a little sunken, and the tone of his complexion had lost its healthy clearness.  In temper, too, he had suffered; perhaps in manners.  He used oaths too freely; intermingled his good bluff English —­ the English of a country gentleman —­ with recent slang; tended to the devil-may-care rather than to the unconsciously breezy and bold.

‘Let us find a corner,’ he said, clutching his friend by the shoulder, ‘out of the damned crowd.’

‘Lawsuit finished?’ asked Harvey, when they had found a place and ordered their meal.

Hugh answered with a deep rolling curse.

When he returned to England, in the summer of 1889, he entered at once into partnership with the man Mackintosh, taking over an established business at Coventry, with which his partner already had some connection.  Not a week passed before they found themselves at law with regard to a bicycle brake —­ a patent they had begun by purchasing, only to find their right in it immediately contested.  The case came on in November; it occupied nine days, and was adjourned.  Not until July of the following year, 1890, was judgment