trust came not from a financial interest, but from a woman. I would much rather be allied to your interests, but if you should fail me I must take that aid. Now, if you will set an hour to-morrow before which I must not enter the market as a purchaser, I will give you my word."

"I appreciate your situation," replied Mr. Anstruthers. "Then I will name to-morrow at 12, and shall ask you to hold yourself subject to a call from me to-morrow morning at any hour, or a call to go to a certain place at any hour before 12."

"I agree."

Percy took from his desk the draft of his card to the public, handed it to Mr. Anstruthers, and said:

"I propose to send this to the press tonight."

Mr. Anstruthers read it carefully and laid it on the desk.

"I do not wonder you are indignant. But I think if you wish to buy at 50 it would be better to send it out to-morrow night. It is quite likely to interfere with plans. I am afraid that under it your own would miscarry. Put it away until to-morrow afternoon."

Percy smiled and locked it up.

CHAPTER X

DETECTED IN A MYSTERIOUS CRIME

WHILE J. Percival Dunbar detained Frank at the office, Joe Hackett was striving at the Elbert house to allay the fears of Mrs. Elbert, worrying over her son's non-appearance and his belated dinner.

"He is never later than 6," she was repeating, "nor remains away from his meals without sending word."

"These be strenuous times for Universal and J. Percival Dunbar," Joe had replied. "Dunbar must be losing $5,000 an hour, if he is not making the same amount in the same period of time. In either event he is on the rack, so busy he can have thought of neither meals nor hours. And when he is busy his private secretary is, of necessity. Dunbar is reforming his lines and carrying off the dead and wounded after the day's battle. Rest assured, mater, the embryotic financier and incipient capitalist is receiving profound les

sons in modern finance, at the expense of a hungry stomach only."

At 9 o'clock Frank made his appearance, showing in his face the strain of his long hours. He was reserved as to the cause of his detention, but famished. With fond bustle his mother carried him off to his belated meal.

"Nan," said Joe, "I presume it is very mean-spirited, and quite unmodern, but, for the actual assurance of all he hopes to win, I would not go through what J. Percival Dunbar has to-day. I suppose he is much richer to-night than he was last night at this hour, but for all that and all he has I would not have said of me what was said of him in the evening papers."

"They have abused him?" asked Nan.

"Translated into perspicuous English, unguarded against the perils of libel, they have alleged thievery. Whether it is abuse or not depends upon the little question of truth."

"I am afraid," said Nan, after a slight pause, "that you do not like Mr. Dunbar."

"That's where the gentle little Nan is wrong. I like Percy Dunbar very well. That liking began years ago when he was a leader among us boys. In fact, I am conscious of a very strong desire to go to his defense. I am given to introspection and am an egoist. I find myself continually comparing my ad

vance in life with that of my old school and college mates, and measuring my likes and dislikes by the determination whether or not they have the swelled head. All that is very petty, to be sure. But it affects me and Percy Dunbar has not a swelled head. Hence I like him. The possession of money seems to be the cause of most of the enlarged heads. And everybody is contributing to the enlargement by doffing their hats and cringing before the man of money. In fact, everybody nearly is striving for the enlarged cranium by striving for money in large chunks, at the sacrifice of all those old-fashioned things we were once taught to regard as the supreme possessions, honor, character and self-respect. Money, money, money! It is the talk everywhere, and how to make it quick."

Joe stood up and, with a laugh, quoted:

"The time is out of joint; O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right!'

He crossed the room and closed the door, coming back to say:

There's

"Now, come, let's get together. something wrong about me. I haven't the modern regard for riches, and can't discover virtues and respect for a man simply because he has more money than I have. My bump

of reverence has gone on strike.

I

As the rest of the world thinks there is nothing else to revere, it's out of business. Now, I'll never be rich. I have not got the gambling spirit. let 'I dare not' wait on 'I would.' I had a tip this morning. Had I dared, I might have been rich this afternoon. That's me. I never will be, though I venture to say I get more chances than the average delver and digger."

He sat down beside the girl, who, accustomed to his outbreaks, his tirades and his frank egoism, was yet interested in his talk.

"Nan," he said, "have you desires to be rich? Do you wish for gold galore, silks and satins, fine horses and the gay life of a fashionable butterfly."

"I never wish for what I cannot have," replied Nan.

"What a contented puss! Yet you aspire to it, Nan? To woman, wealth comes by birth or marriage. You have it not by birth. By marriage you can gain it. You have beauty, accomplishments, education, refinement. You can grace a rich man's table. Have you no vague longings for such a place?"

"No," said the girl, "but there have been times when I wished for money-enough to take mother out of her worries and anxieties.