the tape recorded forty for Rockhaven and then
down to nothing in less time than it can be told, Hill was the happiest
of men. He knew the plan was for Simmons to sell at forty, and supposed
that he had done so. And in his greedy joy he began figuring how much
his share of the street's robbery would be.

No thought of the poor widow, whose child was even then at her work in
his outer office, came to him. He knew this confiding woman had, at his
suggestion, invested her all in Rockhaven, and that now it had been
swept away. It mattered not. Neither did he think of Mrs. Converse, more
especially Weston's dupe, and whose stock, now worthless, was locked in
their safe. No thought of young Winn Hardy, their faithful helper, and
his loss came. No thought of anybody who had lost by them and must
suffer entered his narrow and backward-sloping cranium. He only thought
of himself. And his deep-set eyes gleamed with the miser's joy, and his
shallow conceit swelled with pride.

Now he was a great financier!

Now he was a power "on 'change"!

When the market closed and the now beggared stenographer and other
office help had gone home, he still waited. Weston would surely come
soon and acquaint him with the results of their great achievement.

But Weston came not.

And Hill still waited.

And as one hour and then another was ticked off by the office clock, he
ceased computing his share of the coming gains, and an intuitive sense
that all was not right came to him. He was naturally suspicious, and
being a thief at heart himself, quick to suspect others.

And now he suspected Weston!

Little by little his distrust increased as Hill watched the office door
and listened to the clock tick. Trifling remarks that Weston had made,
half-concealed sneers he had let escape, returned to Hill as he watched
and waited.

Certainly he should come and divide, as any honorable thief ought to.

But he did not!

Never before had Weston failed to return at the close of the exchange,
where he was usually closeted with Simmons. Why not now?

And so the demon of suspicion grew.

When another hour had passed and the daily workers in stores were
hurrying homeward, Hill could stand the suspense no longer, and taking
his hat almost ran to Simmons's office.

As might be expected, it was closed.

Then in a frenzy he hurried back to his own office and rang up Weston's
home on the telephone.

Weston was not there.

Then he tried Simmons's ho