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Updated: May 4, 2025
Waddington generally chose, they had champagne. They drank Benedictine with their coffee and smoked cigars instead of cigarettes. Their conversation was a trifle jerky and Mr. Waddington kept on returning to the subject of the Menatogen Company. "You know, I've three beans left, Burton," he explained, towards the end of the meal. "I don't know why I should keep them.
"Don't you worry," he answered, cheerfully. "That's all right, anyway. It's jolly well the best thing I ever did in my life. Got my pockets full of money already, and I mean to have a thundering good time with it. No fear of my ever blaming you. Good-night, Miss Edith! My regards to the governor and tell him I am all on for Menatogen."
Burton," she said softly, "do answer me one question. Did you part with all your beans?" His hand went up to his forehead for a moment. "Yes," he replied, "both of them. I only had two, and it didn't seem worth while keeping one. Got my pockets full of money, too, and they are going to make me a director of Menatogen." "Do you feel any different?" she asked him.
"Carry the tray, then, and mind where you're going," Ellen ordered. The half-yearly directors' meeting of the Menatogen Company had just been held. One by one, those who had attended it were taking their leave. The auditor, with a bundle of papers under his arm, shook hands cordially with the chairman Alfred Burton, Esquire and Mr. Waddington, and Mr.
Ellen stared at him for a moment. "I don't follow you," she declared, brusquely, "and I don't know as I want to. About that advertisement, is it you, Alfred, who's to be one of the directors of this Menatogen or whatever they call it? Are they your experiences that are given here?" "They are!" Burton groaned. Mr. Waddington, with a heavy frown, took the paper. "What is this, Burton?" he demanded.
Saw his name in the paper the other day a guest at Lady Somebody's reception. Here goes, old chap success to Menatogen!" Waddington drained his glass. "They say it's his wife who pushes him on so," he remarked. Mr. Burton's wine went suddenly flat. He drank it but without enjoyment. Then he rose to his feet. "Well, so long, Waddington, old chap," he said. "I expect the missis is waiting for me."
"I am not sure," he muttered, "that we are quite in the mood to buy ties. I want to ask you a question, Burton." "Go ahead." "You were telling me about this wonderful scheme of your friend the professor's, to make Menatogen, I think you said. Did you part with both your beans?" "Both," Burton replied, almost fiercely. "But I've another fortnight or so yet. It can't come before it shan't!"
Edith shook her head. "I am much too cold," she objected. "Besides, I want to hear Mr. Bunsome talk about the new discovery. Have you found a title for the food yet?" She walked rapidly on with Burton. Mr. Bomford followed them. "We have decided," he said, "to call it Menatogen." Burton gave a little start of surprise as he entered Mr. Waddington's office.
"How do you do, Mr. Burton?" he said. "Glad to meet you again. Spending some of the Menatogen profits, eh?" "Friend of mine here Mr. Waddington," Burton explained. "Mr. Cowper knows all about him. He owns the rest of the beans, you know." Mr. Bunsome was at once interested. "I'm delighted to meet you, Mr. Waddington!" he declared, holding out his hand.
They talked about Menatogen and its possibilities, and Burton kept harking back to the subject of profits. Mr. Bunsome at last could contain his curiosity no longer. "Say," he remarked, "you had a headache or something the other night, I think? Seemed as quiet as they make 'em down at the old professor's. I tell you I shouldn't have known you again." Burton was suddenly white. Mr.
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