d from New York!" sneered a fat German the office boy had
nicknamed the "Judge."

The doctor was struck with the curiously mottled crowd that jostled one
another, waiting for the first cry of the opening quotations. Every
walk and profession of life had its representative there--merchants,
lawyers, doctors, clerks, clergymen, barbers, boot-blacks, retired
capitalists and capitalists about to retire permanently.

The saddest group of all was in the adjoining room reserved for ladies.
An opening through the partition wall allowed them to see the
quotations as they were placed on the board around which the throng of
jostling, smoking, perspiring men moved and stood. Most of these pale
excited women with their hats awry and their hair disordered were the
wives of solid business and professional men who wouldn't allow their
husbands to know of their little venture into stocks for the world.
They peeped through the opening occasionally and turned their backs
quickly to avoid the gaze of the men.

But the most ominous figures were two or three "vultures" who stood
grim and silent on the outer fringe of the moving crowd. Only one or
two of the older ones recognized them.

The "Judge" saw them first.

"Ach, Gott, look at dem!" he exclaimed. "They never come except for
carrion; they've scented the dead. It's all over with us, poys!"

One of the most curious things in the history of Wall Street is the
appearance of these vultures in a panic. They scent the final
death-struggle with unerring accuracy. They never buy stocks except in
those awful moments of ruin. They hold them grimly until the next
tidal-wave of prosperity, sell out at the top, and wait patiently for
the next killing. They are the only outsiders who ever make a dollar in
Wall Street.

The doctor followed old Dugro, the head of the firm, into his private
office and asked his advice. He got it--sharp, short and to the point.

"Go home, Doctor, and stay there. This market is no place for an
amateur. It's all I can do to keep the wolf from my door in these
days."

"But I've received some important information."

"Keep it dark," old Dugro scowled. "Don't tell it to your worst enemy.
If you've got a dollar, nail it up and sleep on the box."

"But I've some information I think I'm going to act on and I want to
open a small account with you."

"All right. I've warned you," was the grim answer. "I wish you good
luck."

The doctor drew his check for two thous