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“I sincerely hope, Sir John,” said one of the two, “that you have no regrets. I hope you believe that I have advised you in the best interests of all?”

“I do, indeed,” the other replied heartily “We shall be thought entirely selfish; but you know and I know that what we have done is for the benefit of the shareholders.”

Philip was pleased to find that the thoughts of each of the old gentlemen ran hand in hand with his spoken words. “Here, at least,” he said to himself, “are two honest men.”

As though loath to part, the two gentlemen still lingered.

“And I hope,” continued the one addressed as Sir John, “that you approve of my holding back the public announcement of the combine until the afternoon. It will give the shareholders a better chance. Had we given out the news in this morning’s papers the stockbrokers would have–“

“It was most wise,” interrupted the other. “Most just.”

The one called Sir John bowed himself away, leaving the other still standing at the steps of the lounge. With his hands behind his back, his chin sunk on his chest, he remained, gazing at nothing, his thoughts far away.

Philip found them thoughts of curious interest. They were concerned with three flags. Now, the gentleman considered them separately; and Philip saw the emblems painted clearly in colors, fluttering and flattened by the breeze. Again, the gentleman considered them in various combinations; but always, in whatever order his mind arranged them, of the three his heart spoke always to the same flag, as the heart of a mother reaches toward her firstborn.

Then the thoughts were diverted; and in his mind’s eye the old gentleman was watching the launching of a little schooner from a shipyard on the Clyde. At her main flew one of the three flags–a flag with a red cross on a white ground. With thoughts tender and grateful, he followed her to strange, hot ports, through hurricanes and tidal waves; he saw her return again and again to the London docks, laden with odorous coffee, mahogany, red rubber, and raw bullion. He saw sister ships follow in her wake to every port in the South Sea; saw steam packets take the place of the ships with sails; saw the steam packets give way to great ocean liners, each a floating village, each equipped, as no village is equipped, with a giant power house, thousands of electric lamps, suite after suite of silk-lined boudoirs, with the floating harps that vibrate to a love message three hundred miles away, to the fierce call for help from a sinking ship. But at the main of each great vessel there still flew the same house-flag–the red cross on the field of white–only now in the arms of the cross there nestled proudly a royal crown.

Philip cast a scared glance at the old gentleman, and raced down the corridor to the telephone.

Of all the young Englishmen he knew, Maddox was his best friend and a stock-broker. In that latter capacity Philip had never before addressed him. Now he demanded his instant presence at the telephone.

Maddox greeted him genially, but Philip cut him short.

“I want you to act for me,” he whispered, “and act quick! I want you to buy for me one thousand shares of the Royal Mail Line, of the Elder-Dempster, and of the Union Castle.”

He heard Maddox laugh indulgently.

“There’s nothing in that yarn of a combine,” he called. “It has fallen through. Besides, shares are at fifteen pounds.”

Philip, having in his possession a second-class ticket and a five-pound note, was indifferent to that, and said so.

“I don’t care what they are,” he shouted. “The combine is already signed and sealed, and no one knows it but myself. In an hour everybody will know it!”

“What makes you think you know it?” demanded the broker.

“I’ve seen the house-flags!” cried Philip. “I have–do as I tell you,” he commanded.