day-dreams the mark of the dollar. His wife,
seeing him preoccupied, thought business was bad; but Griggs denied
it, confirming her worst fears. Finally, he had a telephone put in his
little shop, to be able to talk to his broker.

Gilmartin, with the ten dollars he had borrowed, promptly bought ten
shares in a bucket shop at 63%; the stock promptly went to 62%; he was
promptly "wiped"; and the stock promptly went back to 64%.

On the next day a fellow-customer of Gilmartin of old days invited him
to have a drink. Gil-martin resented the man's evident prosperity. He
felt indignant at the ability of the other to buy hundreds of shares.
But the liquor soothed him, and in a burst of mild remorse he told
Smithers, after an apprehensive look about him as if he feared some one
might overhear: "I'll tell you something, on the dead q. t., for your
own benefit."

"Fire away!"

"Pa. Cent, is going 'way up."

"Yes?" said Smithers, calmly.

"Yes; it will cross par sure."

"Umph!" between munches of a pretzel.

"Yes. Sam Sharpe told"--Gilmartin was on the point of saying a "friend
of mine," but caught himself and went on, impressively--"told me,
yesterday, to buy Pa. Cent., as he had accumulated his full line, and
was ready to whoop it up. And you know what Sharpe is," he finished, as
if he thought Smithers was familiar with Sharpe's powers.

"Is that so," nibbled Smithers.

"Why, when Sharpe makes up his mind to put up a stock, as he intends to
do with Pa. Cent., nothing on earth can stop him. He told me he would
make it cross par within sixty days. This is no hearsay, no tip. It's
cold facts, I don't _hear_ it's going up; I don't _think_ it's going up;
I _know_ it's going up. Understand?" And he shook his right forefinger
with a hammering motion.

In less than five minutes Smithers was so wrought up that he bought 500
shares and promised solemnly not to "take his profits," s. o. sell out,
until Gilmartin said the word. Then they had another drink and another
look at the ticker.

"You want to keep in touch with me," was Gilmartin's parting shot.
"I'll tell you what Sharpe tells me. But you must keep it quiet," with a
sidewise nod that pledged Smithers to honorable secrecy.

Had Gilmartin met Sharpe face to face, he would not have known who was
before him.

Shortly after he left Smithers he buttonholed another acquaintance,
a young man who thought he knew Wall Street, and therefore had a
hobby--manipulation. No on