k that some Croesus was manipulating to get even
with another Croesus who had manipulated HIM, and that the two
Croesuses had "buried the old man alive." The name of the stock Jack had
forgotten, but the suffering in the victim's face had made an indelible
impression. In reply to Jack's further inquiry, his uncle had spoken as
if the poor fellow had been wandering about on some unknown highway
when the accident happened, failing to add that he himself had led him
through the gate and started him on the road; forgetting, too, to say
that he had collected the toll in margins, a sum which still formed
a considerable portion of Breen & Co.'s bank account. One bit of
information which Breen had vouchsafed, while it did not relieve the
gloom of the incident, added a note of courage to the affair:

"He was game, however, all the same, Jack. Had to go down into his
wife's stocking, I hear. Hard hit, but he took it like a man."

CHAPTER V.

While all this was going on downtown under the direction of the business
end of the house of Breen, equally interesting events were taking place
uptown under the guidance of its social head. Strict orders had
been given by Mrs. Breen the night before that certain dustings and
arrangings of furniture should take place, the spacious stairs swept,
and the hectic hired palms in their great china pots watered. I say "the
night before," because especial stress was laid upon the fact that on
no account whatever were either Mrs. Breen or her daughter Corinne to be
disturbed until noon--neither of them having retired until a late hour
the night before.

So strictly were these orders carried out that all that did reach the
younger woman's ear--and this was not until long after mid-day--was a
scrap of news which crept upstairs from the breakfast table via Parkins
wireless, was caught by Corinne's maid and delivered in manifold with
that young lady's coffee and buttered rolls. This when deciphered meant
that Jack was not to be at the dance that evening--he having determined
instead to spend his time up stairs with a disreputable old fellow whom
he had picked up somewhere at a supper the preceding night.

Corinne thought over the announcement for a moment, gazed into the
egg-shell cup that Hortense was filling from the tiny silver coffee-pot,
and a troubled expression crossed her face. "What has come over Jack?"
she asked herself. "I never knew him to do anything like this before. Is
he angry