Would Trent be able to face settling-day without putting his vast holdings upon the market?
If so the bulls were going to have the worst knock they had had for years--and yet--and yet--the murmur went round from friend to friend--"Sell your Bekwandos." At midday there came an urgent message from Trent's bankers, and as he read it he cursed.

It was short but eloquent.
"DEAR SIR,--We notice that your account to-day stands 119,000 pounds overdrawn, against which we hold as collateral security shares in the Bekwando Land Company to the value of 150,000 pounds.

As we have received certain very disquieting information concerning the value of these shares, we must ask you to adjust the account before closing hours to-day, or we shall be compelled to place the shares upon the market.
"Yours truly, "A.

SINCLAIR, General Manager." Trent tore the letter into atoms, but he never quailed.

Telegraph and telephone worked his will, he saw all callers, a cigar in his mouth and flower in his buttonhole, perfectly at his ease, sanguine and confident.
A few minutes before closing time he strolled into the bank and no one noticed a great bead of perspiration which stood out upon his forehead.
He made out a credit slip for 119,000 pounds, and, passing it across the counter with a roll of notes and cheques, asked for his shares.
They sent for the manager.