the paper, Mr. Burnett, that we are an author. Let me
congratulate you. Mrs. Tweedle told me not to come home without bringing
your story. Who publishes it?"

"I shall be much honored," said Philip, blushing, "if Mrs. Tweedle will
accept a copy from me."

"I didn't mean that, Mr. Burnett; but, of course, gift of the author
--Mrs. Tweedle will be very much pleased."

In half an hour Mr. Mavick came out, passed him without recognition, and
hurried from the office, and Philip was summoned to Mr. Hunt's room.

"I want you to go to Washington immediately, Mr. Burnett. Return by the
night train. You can do without your grip? Take these papers to
Buckston Higgins--you see the address--who represents the British
Argentine syndicate. Wait till he reads them and get his reply. Here is
the money for the trip. Oh, after Mr. Higgins writes his answer, ask him
if you can telegraph me 'yes' or 'no.' Good-morning."

While Philip was speeding to Washington, an important conference was
taking place in Murad Ault's office. He was seated at his desk, and
before him lay two despatches, one from Chicago and a cable from London.
Opposite him, leaning forward in his chair, was a lean, hatchet-faced
man, with keen eyes and aquiline nose, who watched his old curbstone
confidant like a cat.

"I tell you, Wheatstone," said Mr. Ault, with an unmoved face, bringing
his fist down on the table, "now is the time to sell these three stocks."

"Why," said Mr. Wheatstone, with a look of wonder, "they are about the
strongest on the list. Mavick controls them."

"Does he?" said Ault. "Then he can take care of them."

"Have you any news, Mr. Ault?"

"Nothing to speak of," replied Ault, grimly. "It just looks so to me.
All you've got to do is to sell. Make a break this afternoon, about two
or three points off."

"They are too strong," protested Mr. Wheatstone.

"That is just the reason. Everybody will think something must be the
matter, or nobody would be fool enough to sell. You keep your eye on the
Spectrum this afternoon and tomorrow morning. About Organization and one
or two other matters."

"Ah, they do say that Mavick is in Argentine up to his neck," said the
broker, beginning to be enlightened.

"Is he? Then you think he would rather sell than buy?"

Mr. Wheatstone laughed and looked admiringly at his leader. "He may have
to."

Mr. Ault took up the cable cipher and read it to himself again. If Mr.
Hunt had known its contents he nee