You are a little too late, Dredlinton. Better make up your
mind to stick it out with your friends."
Dredlinton groaned. There was all the malice of hatred in his eyes, a
note of despair in his exclamation.
"They are strong men, those two," he muttered. "They can stand more than
I can. I demand my freedom."
Wingate threw himself into an easy-chair.
"Endurance," he observed, "is largely a matter of nerves. You must make
this a test. If you fail, well, your release always rests with your two
friends. I am sure they will not see you suffer unduly."
Phipps leaned a little across the table.
"We shall suffer," he said hoarsely, "but it will be for hours. With you,
Wingate, it will be a matter of years! Our turn will come when we visit
you in prison. Damn you!"
CHAPTER XXI
In the Board room of the British and Imperial Granaries, Limited, were
four vacant chairs and four unoccupied desks, each of the latter piled
with a mass of letters. Outside was disquietude, in the street almost a
riot. Callers were compelled to form themselves into a queue,--and left
with scanty comfort. Wingate, by what seemed to be special favour, was
passed through the little throng and ushered by Harrison himself into the
deserted Board room.
"So you have no news of any of your directors, Harrison?" the
former observed.
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