He put his feet up on
the corner of the desk, and tipping back his chair,
surveyed the discomfited Viscount impassively.
He forbore even to smile.
"So this swine of a Tavender came straight to you!"
Lord Plowden had found words at last. As he spoke,
he lifted his face, and made a show of looking the other
in the eye.
"Oh, there are a hundred things in your own game, even,
that you haven't an inkling of," Thorpe told him,
lightly. "I've been watching every move you've made,
seeing further ahead in your own game than you did.
Why, it was too easy! It was like playing draughts
with a girl. I knew you would come today, for example.
I told the people out there that I expected you."
"Yes-s," said the other, with rueful bewilderment.
"You seem to have been rather on the spot--I confess."
"On the spot? All over the place!" Thorpe lifted himself
slightly in his chair, and put more animation into his voice.
"It's the mistake you people make!" he declared oracularly.
"You think that a man can come into the City without a penny,
and form great combinations and carry through a great scheme,
and wage a fight with the smartest set of scoundrels
on the London Stock Exchange and beat 'em, and make for
himself a big fortune--and still be a fool! You imagine
that a man like that can be played with, and hoodwinked
by amateurs like yourself.
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