ed to carry it out. In
fact, he had made preparation to do so already.

"We will close up our business now, Mr. Simmons," he said in a dejected
tone, when the tirade of abuse had ceased, "and in future I will employ
another broker."

"Yes, and you are d----d welcome to do it," asserted Simmons, whose
wrath had not cooled. "You made a holy show of me to-day and let that
upstart, Page, turn the tables on me, and I've had enough of you. You
had better go and hold a prayer service with Mrs. Converse. With
Rockhavens at nothing bid, she will be in a suitable mood for prayers.
You might ring the changes on 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away'
with her, but you won't bear any resemblance to the Lord in her
estimation. Take your business and your schemes and hide yourself
somewhere. I would suggest you go to Rockhaven and ask your 'old fossil
fiddler' to play the 'Rogues' March' for you."

And, having thus relieved his mind, Simmons, turned to his desk, and
after a half-hour of careful computation handed Weston a statement and
check for one hundred and ten thousand dollars, which represented the
net results of the securities Weston had turned over to him, after
deducting the actual loss they had made on Rockhaven. For the money
received from the sale of some thirty thousand shares at one dollar
each, had more than been consumed in buying back stock at various prices
to affect the market, in the quarrying operations, in _Market News_
items, and various other outgoes.

What Weston did receive after over a year of scheming was less than the
original capital Hill had put into the firm. Weston had previously
checked out and pocketed the firm's own bank balance, and now he went
the way he had for months planned to go, and that night left the city.

And his wife, who had shrewdly insisted that their residence be deeded
to her, in case of business reverses, shed no tears.

It was a fitting climax to the life of a J. Malcolm Weston.

But there was another episode of equal interest, and that the outcome of
Weston's robbery of Hill. And when that has been told, no more shall
either of these despicable men taint this narrative.

All that day while Rockhaven was first shooting skyward and then
downward, Hill sat in his office watching the ticker. He couldn't go on
to the floor of the exchange; he knew Weston was with Simmons; and so,
like a human hyena, he lurked in his own den, waiting for his share of
the plunder. And when