"Fill up, the lot of you! Come! To our next meeting! May fortune soon smile again, and may I have another home before long as worthy a resting-place for you as this!" Bewilderment reigned.

No one offered to drink the toast.

It was Miss Montressor who asked the question which was on every one's lips.
"What's up ?" she exclaimed.

"What's the matter with our next meeting here to-morrow night, and what's all that rot about your next home and fortune ?" Trent looked at them all in well-simulated amazement.
"Lord!" he exclaimed, "you don't know--none of you! I thought Da Souza would have told you the news!" "What news ?" Da Souza cried, his beady eyes protuberant, and his glass arrested half-way to his mouth.
"What are you talking about, my friend ?" Trent set down his glass.
"My friends," he said unsteadily, "let me explain to you, as shortly as I can, what an uncertain position is that of a great financier." Da Souza leaned across the table.

His face was livid, and the corners of his eyes were bloodshot.
"I thought there was something up," he muttered.