ed inwardly. Badger was the most celebrated of Wall
Street's near-financiers.

"Where on earth did you meet Badger?" he demanded.

"Why, he boarded with me--for a long time," she answered. "I've no
complaint to make of Mr. Badger. He's a very handsome polite gentleman.
And I don't feel altogether right about coming to you and saying
anything that might be taken against him--but lately I've heard so many
things--"

"Don't worry about Badger!" growled Mr. Tutt. "How did you come to
invest in his oil stock?"

"I was there when he got the telegram telling how they had found oil on
the property; it came one night at dinner. He was tickled to death. The
stock had been selling at three cents a share, and, of course, after the
oil was discovered he said it would go right up to ten dollars. But he
was real nice about it--he said anybody who had been living there in the
house could share his good fortune with him, come in on the ground
floor, and have it just the same for three cents. A week later there
came a photograph of the gusher and almost all of us decided to buy
stock."

At this point in the narrative Mr. Tutt kicked the coal hod violently
and uttered a smothered ejaculation.

"Of course I didn't have any ready money," explained Mrs. Effingham,
"but I had the bonds--they only paid two per cent and the oil stock was
going to pay twenty--and so I took them down to the bank and borrowed
ten thousand dollars on them. I had to sign a note and pay five per cent
interest. I was making the difference--fifteen hundred dollars every
year."

"What has it paid?" demanded Mr. Tutt ironically.

"Twenty per cent," replied Mrs. Effingham. "I get Mr. Badger's check
regularly every six months."

"How many times have you got it?"

"Twice."

"Well, why don't you like your investment?" inquired Mr. Tutt blandly.
"I'd like something that would pay me twenty per cent a year!"

"Because I'm afraid Mr. Badger isn't quite truthful, and one of the
ladies--that old Mrs. Channing; you remember her, don't you--the one
with the curls?--she tried to sell her stock and nobody would make a bid
on it at all--and when she spoke to Mr. Badger about it he became very
angry and swore right in front of her. Then somebody told me that Mr.
Badger had been arrested once for something--and--and--Oh, I wish I
hadn't given him the money, because if it's lost Jessie won't have
anything to live on after I'm dead--and she's too sick to work. What do
you