om you hold
dear, God bless you? What could I or my father have done but for you and
Mr. Brownley?"

She turned her big eyes full upon Bob, filled with a light such as can
come only to a woman's eyes, only to a woman before whom, as she stands on
the brink of hell, suddenly looms her heaven.

Sharp and shrill rang Bob's Exchange telephone. The ring seemed shriller;
it certainly was longer than usual. Bob jumped for the receiver.

Chapter III.

He Listened a moment, then answered, "Stand on it at 80 for 12,000 shares.
I will be there in a second." He dropped the receiver. "Jim, we have
struck a snag. Arthur Perkins, whom I left on guard at the pole, says
Barry Conant has just jumped in and supplied all the bids. He has it down
to 81 and is offering it in 5,000 blocks and is aggressive. I must get
there quick," and he shot out of the office.

I sprang for Bob's telephone: "Perkins, quick!" "What are they doing,
Perkins?" I asked a moment later.

"Conant has almost filled me up. He seems to have a hogshead of it on
tap," he answered.

"Buy 50,000 shares, 5,000 each point down; and anything unfilled, give to
Bob when he gets there. He is on the way."

I shut off, and turned to Miss Sands:

"This is no time to stand on ceremony, Miss Sands. Barry Conant is
Camemeyer's and 'Standard Oil's' head broker. His being on the floor
means mischief. He never goes into a big whirl personally unless they are
out for blood. Bob has exhausted his buying power, and though I tell you
frankly that I never speculate, don't believe in speculation and am in
this deal only for Bob--and for you--I swear I don't intend to let them
wipe the floor with him without at least making them swallow some of the
dust they kick up. Please don't object to my helping out, Miss Sands.
Ordinarily I would defer to your wishes, but I love Bob Brownley only
second to my wife, and I have money enough to warrant a plunge in stock.
If they should turn Bob over in this deal, he--well, they're not going to,
if I can prevent it," and I started for the Exchange on the run.

When I got there the scene beggared description. That of the morning was
tame in comparison. A bull market, however terrific, always is tame beside
a bear crash. In the few moments it took me to get to the floor, the
battle had started. The greater part of the Exchange membership was in a
dense mob wedged against the rail behind the Sugar-pole. I could not have
got within yards of