I can't stand it."
"Whenever you like, my dear fellow," Wingrave answered. "I think that
you would be very foolish to leave me, though. I must be a most
interesting study."
"You are--what the devil made you!" Aynesworth muttered.
Wingrave laid down his cigarette.
"I am what my fellows have made me," he said slowly. "I tasted hell
for a good many years. It has left me, I suppose, with a depraved
taste. Ring up my brokers, Aynesworth! I want to speak to Malcolmson.
He had better come round here."
The day dragged on. Aynesworth hated it all, and was weary long before
it was half over. Everyone who came was angry, and a good many came
whom Wingrave refused to see. Just before five o'clock, young Nesbitt
entered the room unannounced. Aynesworth started towards him with a
little exclamation. The young man's evident excitement terrified him,
and he feared a tragedy. Malcolmson, too, half rose to his feet.
Wingrave alone remained unmoved.
Nesbitt walked straight up to the table at which Malcolmson and
Wingrave were sitting. He halted in front of the latter.
"Mr. Wingrave," he said, "you will give me my receipt for those shares
for fifty-seven thousand six hundred dollars."
Wingrave turned to a paper by his side, and ran his forefinger down
the list of names.
"Mr. Nesbitt," he said. "Yes! sixty thousand dollars."
The young man laid a slip of paper upon the table.
"That is a certified check for the amount," he said.
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