S.O. and
gratuity, and turned financier, which I think wouldn't have pleased your
old father. Come, sit down here and let us talk."
"I didn't leave the army, Mr. Jackson," answered his visitor; "it left
me; I was invalided out. They said I should never get my health back
after that last go of fever, but I did."
"Ah! bad luck, very bad luck, just at the beginning of what should have
been a big career, for I know they thought highly of you at the
War Office, that is, if they can think. Well, you have grown into a
fine-looking fellow, like your father, very, and someone else too," and
he sighed, running his fingers through his grizzled hair. "But you don't
remember her; she was before your time. Now let us get to business;
there's no time for reminiscences in this office. What is it, Alan, for
like other people I suppose that you want something?"
"It is about that Sahara flotation, Mr. Jackson," he began rather
doubtfully.
The old editor's face darkened. "The Sahara flotation! That
accursed----" and he ceased abruptly. "What have you, of all people in
the world, got to do with it? Oh! I remember. Someone told me that you
had gone into partnership with Aylward the company promoter, and that
little beast, Champers-Haswell, who really is the clever one.
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