town.

"That's the dickens of being a business man," he complained to Hazel,
in the hallway. "It rides a man, once it gets hold of him. I'd rather
get a machine and go joy riding with you than anything else. But I
have to go and make a long-winded report; and I suppose those fellows
will want to talk gold by the yard. Adios, little person. I'll get
out for lunch, business or no business."

Eleven-thirty brought him home, preoccupied and frowning. And he
carried his frown and his preoccupation to the table.

"Whatever is the matter, Bill?" Hazel anxiously inquired.

"Oh, I've got a nasty hunch that there's a nigger in the woodpile," he
replied.

"What woodpile?" she asked.

"I'll tell you more about it to-night," he said bluntly. "I'm going to
pry something loose this afternoon or know the reason why."

"Is something the matter about the mine?" she persisted.

"No," he answered grimly. "There's nothing the matter with the mine.
It's the mining company."

And that was all he vouchsafed. He finished his luncheon and left the
house. He was scarcely out of sight when Jimmie Brooks' runabout drew
up at the curb. A half minute later he was ushered into the
living-room.

"Bill in?" was his first query.

"No, he left just a few minutes ago," Hazel told him.

Mr. Brooks, a short, heavy-set, neatly dressed gentleman, whose rather
weak blue eyes loomed preternaturally large and protuberant behind
pince-nez that straddled an insignificant snub nose, took off his
glasses and twiddled them in his white, well-kept fingers.

"Ah, too bad!" he murmured. "Thought I'd catch him.

"By the way," he continued, after a pause, "you--ah--well, frankly, I
have reason to believe that you have a good deal of influence with your
husband in business matters, Mrs. Wagstaff. Kitty says so, and she
don't make mistakes very often in sizing up a situation."

"Well, I don't know; perhaps I have." Hazel smiled noncommittally.
She wondered what had led Kitty Brooks to that conclusion. "Why?"

"Well--ah--you see," he began rather lamely. "The fact is--I hope
you'll regard this as strictly confidential, Mrs. Wagstaff. I wouldn't
want Bill to think I, or any of us, was trying to bring pressure on
him. But the fact is, Bill's got a mistaken impression about the way
we're conducting the financial end of this mining proposition. You
understand? Very able man, your husband, but headstrong as the deuce.
I'm afraid--to speak fr