"You can imagine how my husband feels about this. It was on his advice
that you invested your money. He holds himself directly responsible. He
is in a terrible state of mind. He is frantic. He has grown so fond of
you, Mr. Bleke, that he can hardly face the thought that he has been
the innocent instrument of your trouble."
* * * * *
Roland felt that it was an admirable comparison. His sensations were
precisely those of a leading actor in an earthquake. The solid earth
seemed to melt under him.
"We talked it over last night after you had gone to bed, and we came to
the conclusion that there was only one honorable step to take. We must
make good your losses. We must buy back those shares."
A ray of hope began to steal over Roland's horizon.
"But----" he began.
"There are no buts, really, Mr. Bleke. We should neither of us know a
minute's peace if we didn't do it. Now, you paid thirty thousand pounds
for the shares, you said? Well"--she held out a pink slip of paper to
him--"this will make everything all right."
Roland looked at the check.
"But--but this is signed by you," he said.
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