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"Good-night, Gerald," she said drily. "Try to get a little sleep." She turned to the younger man. "Put him to bed, Cord, and cut all the wires around the Savoy, so he won't call up those wretched brokers. I think he's trying to gobble the whole English market."

She marked sharply the effect of her shaft.

Grayson turned a shade paler. He clutched Van Ingen's arm.

"Get me out of here!" he whispered hoarsely.

Lady Patricia viewed their departing backs with a fleeting ironical smile.

"Your father, my dear," she murmured to Doris, "is a very remarkable man."

Out in the fresh air, Grayson revived amazingly. His feebleness disappeared as if by magic, and he stepped out briskly. He nodded to a hansom in the rank and the man drew in to the opening.

"The Savoy," cried Grayson.

He sprang in hastily.

Van Ingen made as if to follow, but Grayson held the apron door securely.

"No need in the world for you to accompany me, dear boy," he exclaimed, smiling. "Go back. I feel quite braced already. It was that devilish stuffiness inside—a momentary seizure. Good-night!" He waved his hand and sank back. The hansom started forward with a jerk, and the young man retraced his steps to the theatre, frowning thoughtfully.