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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..752bc59 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67361 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67361) diff --git a/old/67361-0.txt b/old/67361-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d58b231..0000000 --- a/old/67361-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2665 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bob Bowen Comes to Town, by H. Bedford-Jones - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Bob Bowen Comes to Town - -Author: H. Bedford-Jones - -Release Date: February 8, 2022 [eBook #67361] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark. This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOB BOWEN COMES TO TOWN *** - - - Bob Bowen Comes to Town - By H. Bedford-Jones - - - - - I—MINING STOCK. - - -The fat man squeezed himself into the chair of the smoking-room, eyed -the lean man and the drummer who had stretched out on the cushioned -seat, wiped his beaded brow, and sighed. - -“This central California,” he observed squeakily, “is the hottest -place this side of Topheth! Thank Heaven, we get into Frisco -to-night.” - -The drummer from San Francisco resented the diminutive and gave him a -casual stare. The lean man said nothing. Then the drummer turned to -the lean man and picked up a thread of conversation which had -apparently been broken by the fat man’s entrance. - -“This here ruby silver, now,” he argued. “I’ve heard it ain’t up to -snuff. Ain’t nothin’ in working it, they tell me.” - -The lean man smiled. When he smiled, his jaw looked a little leaner -and stronger, and he was quite a likeable chap. - -“You can hear ’most anything, especially about ores,” he remarked, -between pulls at his cigar. “But Tonopah was founded on ruby silver, -and the Tonopah mines are not exactly poor properties to own.” His -eyes twinkled, as if at some secret jest. - -“But they tell me,” persisted the drummer, “that ruby silver’s got too -much arsenic in it to make development and smelting pay. Besides it -comes in small veins—” - -“It has not too much arsenic to make smelting pay—sometimes! It does -not come in small veins—sometimes! Look at the Yellow Jack, the -richest mine over at Tonopah! They busted into ruby silver; last week -a bunch of mining sharks come and look over the outcrop. They wire -east, and their principals pay a cool million and a half cash for the -property. That’s what ruby silver did for the Yellow Jack!” - -“How d’you know so much about, it?” demanded the drummer. “You been up -that way yourself, eh?” - -“I’m the man who sold out the Yellow Jack.” The lean man smiled again -as he threw back his elbows into the cushions and puffed his cigar. - -“Gee!” The drummer stared sidewise at his informant. Very manifestly, -that mention of a million and a half was running in his mind. His eyes -began to bulge under the force of impact. “Gee! Say, are you stringin’ -me?” - -Carelessly, the lean man reached into his vest pocket and extended a -pasteboard. - -“Here’s my card.” The twinkle in his gray eyes deepened a bit. “Bob -Bowen—I guess ’most everybody around Tonopah knows me. I’m going to -Frisco to sell a couple more mines.” - -This time, the drummer took no umbrage at the hated word “Frisco.” -Instead, he put out his hand with quick affability. - -“Glad to meet you, Mr. Bowen! Here’s my card. Going to the Palace?” - -Before the lean man could respond, the fat man leaned forward in his -chair. He stared intently at Bowen, then spoke. - -“Do I understand, sir,” he squeaked, “that you are Robert Bowen, and -that you have sold the Yellow Jack mine?” - -“You do,” said Bowen, eying him. - -“Upon my word!” The ejaculation was one of surprise and was followed -by a chuckle. “My name is Dickover—of New York, Mr. Bowen. If I’m not -mistaken, it was my agent who bought that mine of yours! Am I right?” - -Bowen’s gray eyes hardened for a moment, and then they twinkled again -and his lean hand shot forth. - -“Well, well!” he exclaimed heartily. “Talk about unadulterated -coincidence! And you’re actually Dickover; _the_ Dickover? You’re the -man who owns half the copper mines in Arizona and two-thirds of -Tonopah?” - -“Uhuh. Glad to meet you, Bowen. Going to Frisco, are you?” - -The drummer looked from one to the other, agape. And small wonder! The -name of Dickover was known wherever ores were smelted or mining stocks -sold. - -Bowen and Dickover gazed at each other, appraisingly. After a moment -they began to discuss mining stocks. The drummer listened attentively, -and after venturing one timid assertion which was promptly quashed by -Dickover, ventured no more. At length the train slowed down, and he -sprang to his feet. - -“Gee, I’d plumb forgotten that I had to make a stop!” he said -regretfully, and held out his hand. “Mighty glad to ’ve met you, Mr. -Bowen. And you, Mr. Dickover. Mighty glad! May see you at the Palace -in three-four days. Look me up, won’t you? So-long.” - -So, breezily, he swung out of the smoking-room and from the train. -Bowen carelessly watched him depart, then sat up with quickening -interest. - -“Gone into the telegraph office—” - -The great magnate broke in with a falsetto chuckle. - -“Sure! You can gamble that he knows one or two newspaper men in -Frisco. He’s tipping ’em off that we’re on the Limited. Get our names -in the paper.” - -Bowen looked a trifle startled. “Oh, hell!” he uttered disgustedly. - -The two smoked in silence, no one else entering their compartment. -Slowly the train pulled out and with gathering speed slipped westward. -The fat man leaned forward again, his eyes on Bowen. Mirth shook his -ponderous frame. - -“Say!” he uttered. “I happen to know about that Yellow Jack mine. It -was sold to Dickover of New York, all right; but it was sold by a big -Swede named Olafson. No offense, pardner—but you’re some liar! What -made you string that poor boob?” - -Bowen laughed unassumedly, and the fat man laughed in sympathy with -him. - -“He asked too many questions—too curious. Anyway, I told him the exact -truth!” - -“Come on, come on!” squeaked the fat man scornfully. “I’m no chicken. -You can’t put it over _me_, young man!” - -“I’m not trying to,” said Bowen coolly, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a -matter of record that I sold the Yellow Jack mine. Only, as it -happens, I sold it to Olafson two years ago, before we dreamed there -was any ruby ore in that locality! And I sold it for five hundred -dollars. Now who’s the boob? Me, Bob Bowen! Don’t hold back, stranger; -when old Olafson sold out for a million and a half, I quit Tonopah for -good.” - -The fat man chuckled. The chuckle deepened into a billowing laugh that -shook his broad frame, and the laugh became a roar of mirth. Bowen -grinned wrily. - -“Laugh your fool head off—I deserve it!” he went on. “Still, I’ll hand -it to you at that. You with your talk of Dickover! That’s what made -our late friend really sit up and rubber. Did you notice what reverent -attention he paid to your fool dissertation on curb stocks? I’ll bet a -nickel he’ll invest twenty dollars or so in Big Daisy or Apex Crown on -the strength of your remarks.” - -The fat man choked over his cigar, and flung it away. - -“Didn’t you think much of my spiel?” he demanded. “Why, I thought I -knew a little—” - -“Huh!” grunted Bowen, yet no whit unpleasantly. “Stranger, if you -really want to _learn_ a little about curb stocks, you go and float -around the mining country a bit. If I took your pointers on stocks, -I’d be in a poorhouse next month!” - -“Then you’re a broker?” - -“No. Not by a long sight!” snapped Bowen. “I play a straight game.” - -“No offense.” The fat man chuckled again. “You’re really going to sell -a couple of mines in Frisco? Or was that bunk, too?” - -“No, that was straight enough; not the selling part, maybe, but the -trying.” Bowen sighed a little, and older lines showed in his lean -face. “I’ve got two properties close in to the Yellow Jack.” - -“Why didn’t you try selling them to Dickover’s agent?” - -“Him!” Bowen grunted in disgust. “Stranger, that guy Henderson, just -between you and me, is crooked as hell! Know what he did? Made Olafson -give him fifty thousand dollars before he’d approve the sale! I sure -do feel sorry for old man Dickover; some day that confidential agent, -Henderson, is going to get into him good and deep, believe me!” - -The fat man carefully extracted two fat, gold-banded, amazing cigars -from a case, and extended one to Bowen. - -“Smoke. You seem to be sore on that agent.” - -“Not me, stranger. You can ask anybody on the ground.” - -“H-m! Going to the Palace, I suppose? Best way to sell mines is to put -up at the best place and make a splurge. But you know that, I guess.” - -“I didn’t; but maybe I’ll take your advice. It listens good. No, don’t -get the notion that I’m sore on the Dickover crowd. My ground isn’t -the sort they’re after. It’s low-grade ore and heaps of it. I’ll get -after the low-graders in Frisco, see?” - -The fat man nodded knowingly. “What are your properties?” - -“The Sunburst and the Golden Lode.” - -For a space the two men smoked in silence. Bowen enjoyed his cigar; it -had been long months since he had smoked a cigar whose aroma even -approached this. Evidently the fat man was no pauper. - -The word struck bitterness into Bowen. Pauper! He himself had just -thirty dollars to his name. He would look fine, going to the Palace! -Yet, why not? He could get by with it and let the bill run, on his -appearance; if he sold his two mines, or either of them, everything -would be fine. - -And if not—well, something would turn up. - -“Yep,” he said abruptly, ending his thoughts in speech before he could -check the impulse, “I guess that was good advice. I’ll go to the -Palace.” - -The fat man eyed him shrewdly, but Bowen was again lost in frowning -thought. - -At eight that evening the Limited was “in.” Bowen took a taxi up to -the Palace. When he stepped up to the register of the big Market -Street hostelry, he found his way blocked by the bulky figure of the -fat man, who had just finished signing. The fat man turned from the -desk, saw Bowen, and took him by the arm. - -“Say!” he exclaimed. “Just a minute, Bowen. I want to thank you, old -man, for that tip about my agent. I’ll sure bear it in mind. You’re -all right!” - -Slapping Bowen on the shoulder, he departed after an obsequious -bellhop. For a moment Bob Bowen did not understand that speech; but as -he leaned over the register and saw the signature of the fat man, he -gulped in sudden, stark amazement. - -Great glory! The fat man _was_ Dickover, after all! - - - - - II—CALLED IN FOR CONSULTATION. - - -That evident recognition, that low murmur of confidential speech, that -friendly slap on the shoulder, turned the trick. This Robert Bowen of -Tonopah was manifestly known to the great Dickover; was palpably a -friend of the great Dickover; was clearly and openly a confidant of -the great Dickover! - -Realizing this, Bowen grinned to himself as the desk clerk doffed all -haughtiness and became cordially human. He realized it with greater -emphasis as he turned from the desk and found a brisk young man at his -elbow with extended card. - -“Mr. Bowen? I’m Harkness of the _Chronicle_. May I have two minutes of -your time?” - -Bowen affected to eye the young man in consideration. - -Publicity! Well, why not? It might affect untold wonders for him. He -was arriving in San Francisco unknown and unknowing. He had ore -samples and assayers’ reports galore in his grip; but these might do -him no good unless he got the impetus he needed. And publicity would -give it to him. At least, publicity could not hurt him! - -“Sure,” he said, nodding toward the parlors. “Come along and sit -down.” - -A moment later the two men pulled chairs together and relaxed -comfortably. - -“Shoot,” commanded Bowen laconically. The reporter grinned. - -“I got a tip that you sold the Yellow Jack mine to Dickover for a -million and—” - -“Pause right there, Harkness!” Bowen lifted his hand, but smiled in -his whimsical, likable fashion. “You’ve got it wrong. Dickover has -just bought the Yellow Jack, but not from me. Don’t start me off with -a false report like that, for the love of Mike!” - -“Whew! Good thing you put me wise,” said Harkness frankly. “Well, do -you mind telling me what mine you did sell to Dickover?” - -Bowen gazed at him again, heavy-lidded. Was this rank deception? He -decided that it was not. There was nothing crooked about it. Besides, -Dickover had certainly known just how his words and manner to Bowen -would be seen and recognized; Dickover had tried to do him a good -turn. He was justified in taking advantage of the situation. - -“Frankly, Harkness,” said Bowen slowly, “I don’t want to name any -names. I’m here to try and dispose of some low-grade properties; rich -in ore, but not in rich ore. Maybe you know that the Dickover people -touch nothing but pretty rich propositions in the silver field.” - -“Sure, I understand.” Harkness nodded assent. “But I heard a rumor -that Dickover was here for the purpose of opening up a low-grade -system; somebody had invented a means of smelting—” - -“Nothing to it,” asserted Bowen. “At least, I was talking about it -with Dickover on the train, and he didn’t say—” - -He checked himself abruptly. He had no business talking like this. -Harkness, however, came to his feet as if unwilling to detain the -magnate further. - -“Much obliged for your time, Mr. Bowen; mighty good of you, I’m sure! -No special news from Tonopah way? Nothing on the inside that you’d -pass along—” - -“Oh, sure!” Bowen grinned. “The Yellow Jack was sold to Dickover by a -Swede named Olafson. I sold the mine to Olafson two years ago—for five -hundred beans!” - -Harkness whistled. “Say—but you wouldn’t let me use that, of course.” - -“Go ahead. I should worry!” Bowen chuckled. “The joke is on me, and -everybody up at Tonopah knows it. Only don’t make me out a fool, -Harkness; two years ago there was no ruby vein known in that -property.” - -“Trust me! Thanks, a thousand times.” - -Bowen went to his room, and sighed at the luxury of it. After that -talk with the mining reporter, he had almost believed in his own -assured wealth. - -When he sought the “hotel personals” in the next morning’s -_Chronicle_, he smiled! - - With Mr. Dickover, on the Overland, arrived Mr. Robert - Bowen, of Tonopah, who, it is rumored, has recently - disposed of large holdings in the Dickover interests. Mr. - Bowen is heavily interested in low-grade silver properties - near Tonopah. - -And upon the mining page were separate stories; one concerning the -Yellow Jack, the other, by the authority of Dickover himself, flatly -contradicting the rumor that the Dickover interests had anything to do -with low-grade silver ores. - -“If nobody calls my little bluff, all right!” thought Bowen. “Now for -work.” - -Having a list of every one who might put capital into his holdings, -Bowen engaged a car by the day and set forth. - -At four that afternoon, with ten dollars left in his pocket and no -hope left in his soul, Bob Bowen of Tonopah reentered his room at the -hotel and threw down his grip. - -He had covered everybody, even to those in whom he had looked for no -interest. And always the same story: courtesy, a good reception, -growing caution, flat refusal. It seemed that nobody in San Francisco -would put a cent into low-grade silver. The Arizona crash had scared -every investor away from mines for the next six months. - -Bowen swore savagely to himself. Then, at the jingle of the telephone -bell, he stumbled across the room to the instrument. - -“Mr. Bowen? A party has called you three times since this morning. -Left the number: Mission 34852. Do you wish to call them?” - -“If you please.” - -Bowen hung up. Sudden hope was reborn within him for a brief moment. -Who was so infernally anxious to see him? Who but some one to whom he -had talked that morning—some one who wanted him to return—some one who -now wanted to invest! - -The telephone jingled again. - -“Mr. Bowen?” To his intense disappointment, a feminine voice impinged -upon his ear. Then his feeling changed. It was a nice voice and he -liked it. It held a softly appealing note. He imagined that it held a -trace of tears. - -“Mr. Bowen, I’m a stranger to you; my name is Alice Ferguson. I used -to be a stenographer for your friend Judge Lyman in Tonopah. In this -morning’s paper I saw that you were here, and I wondered if I might -see you for five minutes on a matter of business. It—it is about some -stock in Apex Crown, and it means everything to me; and if I could -possibly impose on you to the extent of asking your advice—” - -“My dear Miss Ferguson,” exclaimed Bowen, warmth in his voice, “I -remember you very well indeed, although I never met you formally. -Sure, I’ll be only too glad to do anything in my power. Where are you -now?” - -“In my office at the Crothers Building. I’ll come over—” - -“Not a bit of it! I’ll be there in five minutes. Good-by!” - -Bob Bowen remembered Judge Lyman’s stenographer as a girl not -particularly striking, but looking very feminine, capable, and as -level-headed as a girl could be. He seized his hat and sought the -quickest way to the Crothers Building. - -As he strode along, his mind was busy—very busy. Apex Crown! That was -a small producing mine over in the Tonopah district; like his own -futures, Apex Crown was low-grade ore and barely paid expenses. It had -been scraping alone for about three years with the stock down to five -cents and less. - -But on the train, the great Dickover had said to—buy Apex Crown! - -Had Dickover been uttering a grim jest, thinking that the drummer and -Bowen would rush to operate on his tip? Was Apex Crown worthless? And -what was Alice Ferguson’s interest in this stock, this stock which on -the curb market was unsought and unbought? - -Bob Bowen reached the Crothers Building. The elevator-man informed him -that Miss Ferguson was a public stenographer. Two minutes later he was -shaking hands with her. - -She was as he remembered her—dark, lithe, rather grave-eyed just at -present but with merriment latent in her face; and altogether -feminine. Bowen would have been amazed had he realized how he himself -was smiling as he seldom smiled. - -“I’ve often heard Judge Lyman say that you were the squarest man he -knew, Mr. Bowen,” said the girl frankly, and smiled as Bowen stammered -dissent. “Nonsense! That is why I called on you. I’m up against it and -don’t know what I should do.” - -“Neither do I,” returned Bowen cheerfully. “What’s the trouble?” - -“Well, my father was a business man in Tonopah. He died three years -ago, leaving me alone. After his death, it developed that he had sunk -all his money in Apex Crown stock; this was in the early days, you -know. The stock looked valuable, but there was no immediate demand for -it. Then gradually it went down, and stayed down—” - -“How much stock?” demanded Bowen. - -“Ten thousand shares.” - -“Whew! Say, that was a shame! A shame—” - -“No. My father had good judgment as a rule,” was the grave rebuke, and -Bowen fell silent. The girl pursued her subject coolly. “This morning -a broker looked me up and made me an offer of ten cents a share for -the stock. I refused him, and he went up to twenty cents—” - -“He—what?” broke out Bowen. “Twenty cents?” - -“Yes. I told him that I’d give him my answer to-morrow. The paper said -that you were largely interested in low-grade ores, and I thought you -might know something about this Apex Crown. If it’s really worth -anything, of course I don’t want to throw it away—” - -“Hold on a minute!” Bowen drew forth an afternoon paper which he had -bought and had stuffed into his overcoat pocket without reading. “I -don’t know anything definite, but if anything has broken loose—ah! -Here we are! Look at this!” - -Excitedly he laid on the desk before her the opened paper. His finger -pointed to an obscure paragraph—a list of curb stocks. The first stock -was Apex Crown. Five thousand shares had changed hands, at a price of -five cents, before the paper had gone to press. - -“Now, see here, Miss Ferguson!” exclaimed Bowen. “Yesterday on the -train, I met Mr. Dickover; the big plunger, you know! He said to buy -Apex Crown. Naturally, I thought he was handing me a stinger by way of -a joke. But here five thousand shares have changed hands to-day! Do -you realize that for the last year or two nobody would have that stock -at any figure? And here a broker comes to you with an offer for your -block—” - -They stared at each other, wordless. A touch of crimson crept into the -girl’s cheeks. Their eyes exchanged the same message of comprehension, -of surmise. - -“You think,” said the girl suddenly, “that Dickover is taking control -of Apex Crown?” - -Bowen was silent for so long that the silence became painful. - -“No,” he returned at last. “No. I _don’t_ think he is. My cool -judgment says he is not. But what’s judgment anyhow? You hang on to -that stock, Miss Ferguson!” - -She flushed a little, but her eyes dwelt on his. “I—I need the money -it would bring at twenty cents,” she faltered. “And yet—look here, Mr. -Bowen! I suppose you’re a very busy man and I have no right to ask -it—” - -“I’m not busy,” said Bowen bitterly. “I’m on a vacation. I’ll do -anything you ask.” - -“I was wondering if—if you would let me indorse the stock over to you, -and then you could act as you think best. Either sell it, or bargain -for a higher figure—” - -She paused, her grave eyes intent upon his lean-muscled face. - -“If it’s too much to ask of you,” she went on, “please say so. I don’t -want to make you trouble or to impose on you, Mr. Bowen; you’re been -altogether too good in wasting this much of your time on me—” - -“Wasting it? Great Jehu! I was just kicking myself for wasting so much -time in not knowing you—I mean,” he added confusedly, “for not having -wasted a little time in the past—no, I don’t mean that either. Well, -if you’re willing to trust me, I’ll do my best in the matter! Where’s -the stock?” - -“I have the certificates here,” and the girl turned to the desk, but -not quickly enough to hide the new tide of crimson that had welled -into her face. It was not hard for any young lady to see that Bob -Bowen of Tonopah was flustered. And Bob Bowen, as this young lady knew -very well, had the reputation of never being flustered by anything or -any one. - -Why should she not blush, at such an unspoken compliment? - - - - - III—A QUICK SALE. - - -On the following morning Bob Bowen did not at once leap up and dress, -nor did he disturb the morning paper. Instead, he lay quiet and -frowned at the ceiling. - -“No doubt at all about it,” he reflected. “She never said a word about -it, of course. She’s not that kind. Just the same, it was there. It -was in her eyes. Fear! She was afraid of something. That’s why she -gave me that stock in trust.” - -Instinct told him that he was right. Instinct had warned him from his -first sight of Alice Ferguson that she was afraid of something. She -had appealed to him for advice, yes; but fear had driven her further -than she had first meant to go. Bowen had seen that hidden fear ere -this, but not in the eye of a woman. It angered him. - -What the devil was she afraid of? Rather—of whom? The answer was to -Bowen quite obvious. Bowen had no use for brokers anyway. That hound -of a broker who had visited her, had made some kind of threats, or had -said something which put fear into her. Bowen swore to himself and -looked at the time. It was seven thirty. - -“I’ll do it,” he muttered, and opened his paper to the mining and -stock page. - -Instead of an obscure paragraph, he found that Apex Crown had leaped -into prominence. The reasons, however, were entirely unknown. On the -previous day some eight thousand shares had changed hands in San -Francisco, and the price had closed at five cents bid, none offered. - -In Los Angeles, however, things were different. Southern California -was the “boob” end of the State, where people speculated with penny -stocks. Here a great deal of Apex Crown had been unloaded in past -years, and yesterday had wakened the moribund stock. Here the price -had closed at five and a half. Twelve thousand shares had been quietly -picked up at two and three cents before the market had discovered the -activity. - -“Somebody’s got agents at work, all right,” said Bowen grimly. “And -they offered the little girl as high as twenty! Wonder if Apex Crown -broke into ruby ore? No, that’s not likely over on those holdings. -Something’s going on secretly.” - -At that moment the telephone jingled. - -“Yep, this is Bowen speaking. Who? Say it again. Oh, Dickover! Thought -you were out of town—” - -“I was,” returned the squeaky voice of the fat man. “Now I’m back. And -I want to see you right now. I’m coming up to your room.” - -“Come ahead.” - -Bowen struggled into his clothes hurriedly, wondering why Dickover was -seeking him. After that ten-thousand-share block? No, Dickover wasn’t -buying low-grade stuff. - -Five minutes later the fat man entered the room, puffing a little and -eying Bowen with angry suspicion. He refused to sit down. - -“See here!” he broke out suddenly. - -“When I slipped you a tip to take a flier in Apex Crown I didn’t mean -for you to jump into the market with both feet! Confound you, Bowen, -what’s back of this? Why are you buying stock all over California?” - -Bowen’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed his visitor. - -“Guess you’re on the wrong track, Dickover,” he drawled. “When you -told me about Apex Crown, I figured you were handing me a bum steer. I -haven’t bought a share of the stuff. Straight!” - -“What? You mean it?” Dickover said. - -Bowen laughed easily. “I’ll prove it. I haven’t ten dollars to my -name, and if the hotel wanted me to pay my bill I’d have to work it -out in jail. I’d look fine going around buying stock, I would!” - -There was no doubting his words. Dickover mopped his round face. - -“Damn it!” he said. “Who’s doing it?” - -“How much is it worth to you to know? I can tell you before ten -o’clock.” - -“You can? What d’ you know about it?” - -“A friend of mine holds a block of ten thousand shares. Was offered -twenty cents for it yesterday. Asked my advice, then transferred the -stock to me to be held or sold on my judgment.” - -“Ten thousand shares, eh?” Dickover’s eyes narrowed. “Give you -thirty.” - -“I’m not selling. Do you want to know who’s buying, or don’t you? How -much for my information? I’ll find out who wants this block—if you -offer enough. I owe a bill here.” - -Dickover grunted. Then he emitted a falsetto chuckle. - -“Five hundred. Waiting for you at ten o’clock.” - -“And your interest in the property?” - -Dickover grunted, turned, and left the room. - -Bob Bowen hastened down to breakfast. He had learned that the magnate -was keenly interested in Apex Crown—wanted to buy it himself. Why? The -only plausible explanation was that Apex Crown had broken into a rich -lode, and from his knowledge of the place Bowen thought this unlikely. - -At eight forty-five Bowen was striding toward the Crothers Building. -He had plenty to puzzle him, but refused to let himself be puzzled. He -needed that five hundred dollars and needed it very much. - -He went straight to Miss Ferguson’s office, and found her just -arrived. She greeted him with patent surprise, but with a smile that -left no doubt of his welcome. - -“Has that broker been here yet?” demanded Bowen bluntly. - -“That broker? Oh, no! He didn’t say what time he’d be here for his -answer.” - -“He didn’t need to. I figure that nine o’clock will fetch him, and if -you don’t mind, I want to sit around on the chance.” - -The girl looked away from him a moment, looked at the window, -frowningly. - -“Of course I don’t mind,” she said at last. “Only—I don’t want you to -lose your temper with him—” - -Bowen laughed frankly, a boyish laugh that was good to hear on his -lips. - -“I never had any temper,” he said. “I’m the mildest little fellow you -ever did see, Miss Ferguson! Honest. I’m a business man. Now, suppose -you sit down and let me dictate a letter to Judge Lyman. I don’t mean -to send it, but I mean your broker friend to hear me dictating. When -he comes in, nod and smile and tell him to wait.” - -The girl sat down before her machine and slipped a sheet of paper into -the roll. - -“All ready?” asked Bowen. “Then shoot!” - - “My dear Judge: - - “I’m here in the big town and having the time of my life. - Them are the exact words. I yesterday met your erstwhile - stenographer, Miss Ferguson, who has an office of her own - and deserves it. I don’t know of any one I’d sooner have met—” - -Bowen paused, meeting the girl’s eyes on his. “That’s all right,” he -said hurriedly. “I’m writing the judge. Confidential letter. Go -ahead!” - -Smiling a little, the girl leaned forward. At that instant, however, -the office door opened and a man appeared framed in the opening. Bowen -gave him a casual glance. Miss Ferguson looked up and smiled—a bit -frostily. - -“I’ll be through this letter in a moment,” she said, “and shall be at -liberty then. Just take a chair, please. Yes, Mr. Bowen?” - -“Paragraph,” said Bowen, now staring past her at the window. He was -conscious that the stranger had taken a chair. “You got that property -location all straight now?” - -Miss Ferguson glanced up quickly, caught Bowen’s vacant expression, -and smothered the surprise in her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “All ready.” - -Bowen proceeded with his dictation, apparently ignoring the listener. - - “For these two holdings of mine—the Sunburst and the - Golden Lode—I want more money than has been offered me as - yet. They are, of course, low-grade ore, and if I can get - rid of them at a reasonable figure, I shall do so at once. - - “However, I have an appointment with Mr. Dickover at ten - o’clock, and have good reason to believe—” - -There came a sudden interruption—from the stranger. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said, stepping forward. “Of course I couldn’t -help overhearing your dictation, sir. May I ask if you are Mr. Robert -Bowen of Tonopah?” - -Bowen gave him a slow stare. “I am.” - -“By George! It’s lucky I met you, then. I arrived from Tonopah myself -a couple of days ago, and have been trying to connect with you. My -name’s Henderson. While at Tonopah I looked over your holdings, among -others; and if you’d consider an offer on them—” - -Bowen drew a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, and lighted it. -He surveyed Henderson with indecision. - -“I don’t know you, Mr. Henderson,” he observed coolly. “I don’t want -to sell those two properties, but I happen to need cash—in a hurry. My -samples and assayers’ reports are at the hotel—” - -“I remember the properties very well,” broke in Henderson. “I know you -by reputation, and I know your ground by personal examination. -Frankly, Mr. Bowen, I’m bucking the Dickover interests in a certain -direction. If you’ll give me an option—” - -“Nothing doing!” snapped Bowen with finality. “Dickover is talking -cold cash. Of course my ore is nothing wonderful—” - -Henderson produced a check-book. “I’ll give you a check for five -thousand to cover both claims,” he said quickly. “Not a cent more. Yes -or no?” - -“Now, I like your way of doing business!” said Bowen cordially. -“That’s what I call a man’s way. Five thousand wins. Got any legal -forms around, Miss Ferguson? Are you a notary?” - -“I have and I am,” said the girl quietly. - -Twenty minutes later, with a witness called in from next door, -Henderson was the owner of the Sunburst and Golden Lode claims. Bowen -picked up the check for five thousand and handed it to Miss Ferguson. - -“I don’t know you, Henderson,” he said quietly, “and I need cash -badly. Further, I have an engagement in half an hour with Dickover and -this must be settled one way or the other. So, Miss Ferguson, kindly -step around the corner to the bank and cash this check for me. Good -thing you deal with a local bank, Henderson.” - -“I’ll go right with the young lady,” spoke up Henderson. “I can -facilitate the cashing of the check, perhaps.” - -“No,” said Bowen, his gray eyes suddenly icy. “No. You stay here, -Henderson. I want to have a little private conversation with you.” - -Henderson looked at him hard. Bowen’s tone had not been nice; but -then, Bowen seemed to be on the inside, and private conversation was -an alluring bait. - -“Well—” he hesitated. - -“You’d better stay,” said Bowen calmly. Then he rose and stepped -outside the door as Miss Ferguson left. He closed the door again and -spoke to the girl in a low voice. - -“Cash that check, then run up to the Palace and wait for me, will you? -Please!” - -The girl nodded. Her eyes sought his with a mischievous gleam. “You -won’t hurt him?” - -“Hurt him? Great Jehu! I should say not! Why, he’s Dickover’s -confidential agent!” - - - - - IV—BOWEN HOLDS THE ACE. - - -Bob Bowen reentered the office, closed the door, set his chair against -it, and sat down. Then he regarded the surprised and frowning -“broker.” - -Mr. Henderson was a man to be seen once and remembered. He had a large -nose, thin slits of black hawk-eyes, shaggy black brows, and a thin -red line of mouth under a closed-clipped mustache. An able man, a -forceful man, an unscrupulous man, this confidential agent of the -magnate Dickover! Bowen, however, did not appear to be much impressed. - -“You wonder why I’m sitting against the door, Mr. Henderson?” he -drawled, chewing at his cigar. “For the obvious reason. To keep you -from getting out.” - -Henderson stiffened. He was startled and taken aback. But Bowen -continued his drawl without observing the agitation of the impeccably -dressed agent. - -“There’s silver,” he ruminated, “and silver. Bar-silver used to be -forty-seven; now it’s over ninety and still climbing. A low-grade ore -that cost eight dollars a ton to produce a few months ago and gave -back eight dollars, was no good. Now, however, it gives back eight -dollars’ profit and is a paying proposition. Those claims I sold you -are that kind. - -“Some day, and I guess it isn’t very far off, folks are going to -discover a chemical process that will take a zinc-silver ore and -separate the zinc and the silver. An ore of that kind to-day, isn’t -worth a tinker’s dam. If that chemical process is discovered, it will -be worth millions. And tucked up in my sleeve I’ve got a property just -like that.” - -Henderson rose impressively. - -“See here, Bowen,” he observed, “I don’t see what you’re driving at, -but if you mean that I can’t leave this room—” - -“You can leave it pretty quick,” drawled Bowen. “But remember one -thing! I’d like nothing better than to mix it with you! I’m just -itching to hold you in a corner and pound off that big nose of yours; -so don’t start anything unless you want me to finish it.” - -“What do you mean talking to me like that?” snarled Henderson angrily. -“A moment ago you sold me two claims, and now—” - -“And now, having concluded business before pleasure, I’m talking. Miss -Ferguson has transferred her block of Apex Crown to me.” - -Henderson’s eyes narrowed. He started to speak, and bit back the -words. - -“That’s right, don’t get hasty,” and Bowen grinned exasperatingly. -“Took you by surprise, did it? Thought I didn’t know you, eh? Well, I -had sort of figured out that you might be you, and when you stepped in -the door I knew it _was_ you. Picking up low-grade silver properties, -are you? I don’t suppose that by any stretch of friendship you’d tell -me why you’re picking them up?” - -Henderson’s face went livid with anger. - -“So you cut in ahead of me!” he rasped. “You got that little fool of a -girl to hand over the stock—” - -“Just one minute, Henderson!” Bowen lifted his hand. “I’ve got a -terrible temper. It doesn’t work very hard, not every day; but to hear -names and epithets applied to honest women is something that sets it -on a hair-trigger. Now, if I were you, Henderson, I’d just speak names -and leave out the adjectives. Do you get me? Get me right off the -jump?” - -Henderson swallowed hard. It was plain to see that he was seething -internally. But he knew men; that was his business. He looked into -Bowen’s gray eyes, and controlled himself. - -“What do you want?” he said slowly, his voice low and tense. “What are -you driving at? Trying to force a bigger price for that stock out of -me?” - -“Nope,” returned Bowen cheerfully. “But it isn’t nice for a big man -like you to come in here and try to threaten and browbeat a girl into -giving away all she’s got in the world. It’s going to get you badly -beaten up one of these days. However, now that you’re dealing with me -you might prove reasonable. How much will you give for that Apex -Crown?” - -“Thirty,” growled Henderson. - -“Buyin’ for Dickover or yourself?” asked Bowen softly. - -The agent uttered a lurid curse. Bowen rose and kicked away his chair, -and opened the door. - -“I thought so,” he remarked cheerfully. “Well, I guess that check’s -cashed, so I’ll mosey along. You needn’t wait here for Miss Ferguson; -she won’t be back for quite a spell. And don’t come down in my -elevator; wait till I’m out of the way. And say—when you do come, shut -the door after you, will you? So-long.” - -Bowen closed the door softly and strode off to the elevator. On the -way down, he glanced at his watch. It was nine fifty. - -“Lots of time,” he thought. “I’ll see Dickover, then meet the little -lady.” - -At two minutes before the hour he inquired at the desk for Dickover, -and was sent up to the latter’s suite. He found Dickover declaiming to -a private secretary, who admitted him and then retired discreetly. Bob -Bowen dropped into a chair beside Dickover’s table and accepted the -cigar shoved at him. - -“I like your cigars,” he observed pleasantly. “The flavor is a little -strong for my taste, but it’s real tobacco. And then the label is -pretty. Don’t know when I’ve ever seen a prettier one—” - -“Confound you!” snapped the fat man. “What d’ you know?” - -“Well, I’m thirty years old, pretty near, and you’d be surprised to -find how much I’ve learned in the last decade of that time! Experience -is—” - -“Damn your experience!” exploded Dickover. “Do you know who’s buying -Apex Crown?” - -“Of course. Don’t you?” - -For answer, Dickover seized a check from the table and held it out. It -was for five hundred dollars. - -“Thanks.” Bowen stuffed it carelessly into his pocket. “Since seeing -you this morning I’ve become fairly rich, and this will add a trifle -to the pile. Your agent, Henderson, is the man after Apex Crown. Just -offered thirty for the stock I hold.” - -The fat features of Dickover purpled with anger. But he suppressed his -emotion, drew another cigar from his pocket, and lighted it. - -“I rather suspected it, Bowen,” he squeaked more calmly. “Of course -you didn’t sell him the stock?” - -“No. I’ll sell it to you if you want it.” - -“Huh! How much you want?” - -“Five dollars a share.” - -Dickover abandoned the subject, after an apoplectic choke. - -“Tell you what, Bowen; that tip of yours sent me up to Tonopah in a -hurry. I looked up Henderson and fired him—fired him good and hard. -The confounded crook! Now I need another man to take his place. A man -I can trust, and a man who can be trusted. Ten thousand a year if the -man makes good.” - -“Too bad you didn’t look around at Tonopah,” said Bowen innocently. “I -know heaps of good men up that way. You should have gone to Judge -Lyman or Tom Jerkens or some of those men and had ’em pick you out a -nice responsible party for that job. They know everybody up there. -Where do you get these cigars? Think I’ll buy me a box.” - -Dickover smoked for a moment in silence. Then he laughed. - -“I did snoop around up there, Bowen,” he remarked at last. “What kind -of a cuss are you? This morning you couldn’t pay your hotel bill; and -now you turn down a ten-thousand-dollar job!” - -Bob Bowen sighed. - -“Well, I do say that it’s tempting. It’s just that, Dickover. But now -I’ve got responsibilities, such as that Apex Crown stock.” - -“Huh! Well, you know those mines you told me about—the Sunburst and -the Golden Lode? I looked ’em up in Tonopah. How much you want for ’em -both?” - -Bowen looked up, genuinely startled. “You want to _buy_?” - -“Uhuh. If the price is right.” - -Bowen grinned. “Say, this is pretty rich! Listen here. An hour ago I -was talking with Henderson, and talking soft. Somehow he got the -notion that you were waiting here to buy those two claims off me. -Savvy? He jumps into the breach with five thousand, which is now mine. -The claims are his—” - -Dickover purpled with indignation. - -“You sold out to him; that dirty yellow dog? What the jumping devils -do you mean by it? Why didn’t you sell to me—” - -“Now, you just pour some ice-water over your scalp and cool off.” -Bowen’s long, lean forefinger shot out at him. “How the jumping devils -did I know you wanted to buy those claims? How did I know you wanted -_any_ low-grade stuff? In yesterday’s paper you said you did _not_ -want it—you’ve never touched it before—” - -Dickover waved his hand in helpless resignation. - -“Oh, shut up, Bowen! Let me think, will you?” - -For a space the two men smoked in silence. Dickover’s fat features -were tensed in frowning thought. To Bowen but one thing was patent: -the magnate was now after low-grade silver ores. If he had not sold -those two claims to Henderson in such a hurry! He had certainly been -hoist with his own petard that time! - -The thought made him chuckle. At the sound, Dickover began to speak -slowly. - -“Bowen, you say you want five dollars for that Apex Crown? Now, I’ll -speak frankly. Apex Crown will be worth five dollars—but not for a few -years. For the past week my men have been secretly buying it in at two -cents; and now I want that block of yours. That or nothing! I’ll offer -you par, one dollar, for that stock. If you refuse, I’ll wash my hands -of the whole mess and throw what I’ve bought on the market at the -present price. Speak quick! If I take the mine, it goes up in value. -If I don’t take it, it’s dead.” - -Bowen stared at his cigar. - -He did not doubt that Dickover was in earnest. And suddenly a light -broke upon him. It was vague and foggy, but it was light. - -“See here!” He leaned forward earnestly. “I’ll put this Apex Crown -offer up to my friend—she’s a lady. I’ll go to my own room and call -her up. In the mean time, you get Tonopah over long-distance. Anybody -there you’d trust down to the ground?” - -Dickover, eying him, nodded. “Judge Lyman is my local attorney there -and is one of the best men I know in the world.” - -“That goes for me. Well, you want low-grade ores of big body and -zinc-silver mixture; same as the Apex Crown and Sunburst and Golden -Lode, eh? All right. Now, I’ve had an ace up my sleeve for some years. -I’ve called it the Big Bony, and it’s located down Rhyolite way. The -ore runs zinc-silver strong, just like these others; only Big Bony has -it in large quantities. - -“Until about ten minutes ago, Dickover, that group of claims was not -worth a cuss. To you, if my guess is right, it’s now worth all the -money I need in my business—say thirty thousand dollars. Judge Lyman -knows all about it; has had assayers report on it, has visited the -place himself with me, and owns a bunch of claims the other side of -it. You call up Lyman before I come back.” - -“Yes?” prompted Dickover as Bowen paused. The magnate was keen-eyed, -attentive. - -“That ore, I believe, is what you want. It’s really worth a big bunch -more than thirty thousand; but I’m needing thirty thousand bad, right -now! Will you buy it at that?” - -Dickover reached for the desk telephone. “I’ll talk to Lyman. His word -is good for all the money I own.” - -“Good! I’ll be back pretty soon.” - -Bob Bowen sought his own room and requested the office to page Miss -Ferguson, who was somewhere about the parlors. - -While waiting, he strode up and down savagely. Ten thousand dollars -meant a fortune to this girl! If the offer was rejected, Dickover -would carry out his word and flood the market with Apex Crown. Sooner -than make Henderson rich, he would smash Apex Crown and Henderson -together. - -The telephone jingled. Bowen caught up the receiver and heard Miss -Ferguson’s voice. - -“This is Bob Bowen speaking, Miss Ferguson. I’ll be down in a few -minutes. Dickover has made me an offer of ten thousand for your stock, -and I want your advice.” - -He heard the girl’s voice catch. “Ten—ten thousand!” - -“Yep. What I want to know is this: Do you want me to play safe on this -stock or do you want me to handle it as I would my own? I warn you, -there’s a vast difference between the two! I can’t warn you too -seriously.” - -She did not reply at once. Bowen waited until waiting grew -intolerable. - -“Hello! Are you there, Miss Ferguson?” - -“Yes. I—I was thinking. Please, Mr. Bowen, handle that stock entirely -as if it were your own. I’ll take the chance!” - -“Good! Thank Heaven for your courage! I’ll be down presently.” - -He had quite forgotten the five thousand which she bore for him. - -Bowen returned to Dickover’s rooms in no great haste; talking with -Tonopah would take time as well as money. But when he entered, he -found Dickover giving his private secretary some instructions. “And -rush the papers here!” concluded the magnate. “With witnesses.” - -“Well?” Bowen dropped into a chair, as if casually. “Did you get Lyman -yet?” - -“The boy’s making out the papers now. I’ll buy. What did your lady -friend say?” - -Bowen felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. The game was -won—almost! - -“One thing at a time,” he said, laughing. “Let’s clean the Big Bony -off the slate, then clean off the Apex Crown.” - -“Uhuh. One thing I meant to tell you, Bowen. Keep your eye peeled for -Henderson! That fellow is bad medicine when he’s crossed, and I judge -by your manner that you have crossed him some this morning.” - -“I did, I hope,” Bowen chuckled. The magnate grunted non-committally. - -In ten minutes the ownership of the Big Bony group of claims was -transferred from Bob Bowen to Dickover. The secretary and witnesses -departed. Bowen pocketed the magnate’s check for thirty thousand -dollars. - -“You lost another thirty on that deal,” said Dickover complacently. - -“I’ll clean up fifty with the thirty I got,” retorted Bowen. The other -chuckled. - -“I’ll gamble that you do, at that! Well, about the Apex Crown—” - -“We hang on to it.” - -The eyes of the two men met and held for a long moment. - -“Then,” Dickover’s fist crashed down on the table, “you’ll go smash! -All or nothing is my motto. In three days you won’t get three cents -for that stock—and what’s more, you never will get three cents for -it!” - -Bowen rose, his lips curving in a smile. - -“Maybe. Well, I’m glad to ’ve met you. Hope we meet again.” - -“Same here.” The two men shook hands. Dickover extended another cigar. -“Smoke up on me after lunch, Bowen. Sorry you’re going smash with that -block of Apex Crown!” - -“I’ll be sorry if I do,” said Bowen cryptically. “So-long!” - - - - - V—BOWEN TAKES A PARTNER. - - -Without comment, Bowen took the flat packet Miss Ferguson handed him, -dropped into the big plush chair beside her, and glanced at his watch. - -“Eleven o’clock. Time to talk before lunch.” He glanced around and -found they were in no danger of eavesdroppers. Then, with leaping -pulses, he told the girl of his conversations with Henderson and -Dickover. - -“And I refused Dickover’s offer,” he concluded bluntly, “and accepted -his threat to smash the stock. He’ll do it, too. By this time he’s -sent orders to his brokers to sell it, to smash the market flat.” - -The girl’s eyes were steady on his. - -“I’m content,” she said curtly. “But please explain. You’ve some -scheme?” - -“You’ve said it. _Some_ scheme! Do you mind if I smoke? My nerves are -jumpy, and they’ll be worse before they’re better.” - -She made a gesture of impatient assent. He lighted Dickover’s parting -gift and for a space sat in silence, his face deeply lined in thought. - -“I’ve got to make this clear to you,” he said at last slowly. “You -know anything about low-grade silver ores?” - -“Very little.” - -“They’re low-grade because they are mixed with lead or zinc, hold a -small proportion of silver, and yield very small profit. The -separation of the silver and zinc is difficult. A hyperstatic process -has been invented, but if a chemical process could be found, it would -be cheaper and better; besides, it would make a yield of zinc as well -as of silver. And to-day both zinc and silver are soaring. You -understand?” - -She nodded quickly. “And—and you think such a process has been found?” - -A gleam of admiration sprang into Bowen’s gray eyes. For the first -time, he smiled his likable, boyish smile. - -“Great Jehu, there is nothing slow about you!” he breathed. “Yes. My -guess—and mind this, it’s no more than a guess—is that Dickover has -advance information that this chemical process is now a verity. You -see? It is probably workable on ores of a certain silver-zinc -combination. I deduce this from the fact that the Apex Crown, the two -holdings I sold Henderson, and the Big Bony I sold Dickover are of -almost the same identical ore properties. Only such a discovery would -get Dickover after low-grade ores.” - -She was leaning forward now, her eyes shining like twin stars. - -“I see! Of course!” she exclaimed eagerly. “Henderson learned of this -and at once went out on his own hook to secure all the mines and -claims possible containing this grade of ore! And Dickover is here in -San Francisco to buy everything in sight before news of the discovery -has broken! Is that it?” - -“You’ve said it. So far all’s straight. Got any questions ready?” - -“Heaps!” The girl laughed, then instantly grew grave. “Dickover knows -that Henderson is a traitor and has been buying Apex Crown; yet -Dickover is ready to buy our stock, make the Apex Crown a great -success and enrich Henderson! Why?” - -“I’ve doped it out; I struck the same snag myself—and others, too. -Like this! If Dickover gets our block of stock, he controls that mine. -He can let it lie useless for years, until Henderson has given up hope -and sold out the stock he’s been buying. And until that happens, -Dickover lets the mine lie dead for five years or fifty! Savvy?” - -“Sure, so far.” Miss Ferguson frowned. “It’s getting involved, though. -The salient fact is the human equation—Dickover wants to smash -Henderson first, then develop the mine!” - -“Exactly. He knows that Henderson is loaded to the guards with the -stock and is taking all that’s offered.” - -“Then why does Dickover threaten to throw all _his_ stock on the -market? How would that smash anybody? Henderson could simply buy it -up, control the mine, and develop it by means of the new chemical -process!” - -Bowen leaned back in his chair and puffed for a moment. - -“Right there is where I had to make another quick guess, Miss -Ferguson. But I think I’m right. I _know_ I’m right! From what I -remember of the Apex Crown affair, a fair quantity of stock was issued -in the early days; close to half a million, I believe. We can verify -the figures this afternoon. With Henderson and Dickover scrapping over -a mere block of ten thousand shares, you see they have absorbed about -all of that stock that was lying around loose. Call it about two -hundred thousand shares or more to each of them. - -“Now, when Dickover issued his Apex Crown ultimatum, I thought about -what I’d do if I were in his place and with his power; and upon that -it flashed over me exactly what _he_ would do—the only thing he -logically could do, upon such a threat as his! Remember that Dickover -knows human nature and gambles on it; remember, also, he has agents or -brokers in every large city in the country, and can strike -contemporaneously at a moment’s notice.” - -“All clear so far,” said the girl quietly. “And your prophecy—” - -“Is this: By to-day the stock is probably up to ten cents or more, and -none offered. Dickover to-day issues orders to throw overboard the -stock, beginning to-morrow morning; to throw overboard in such big -blocks that Henderson will know where it’s coming from. He’ll hammer -down the market, hammer it down until the stock is back to two cents -or less. - -“And what happens? Will Henderson buy everything in sight? No. He -won’t have the money or the nerve. He’s a traitor, remember, and a -traitor has a yellow spot somewhere. Henderson will think that the -Apex Crown ore has proven unfit for going through the new chemical -process; or he may think that Dickover has put some string on the -property that makes the stock worthless; he may think any of a dozen -things, and he _will_. He’ll think all of ’em! Instead of finding -himself grown rich by a sneaky, slick trick, he’ll find Dickover -fighting him—and his nerve will go.” - -“Possibly,” agreed the girl, watching Bowen with fascinated eyes. “But -it’s a poor thing to bet on, isn’t it? What’s the rest of the -prophecy?” - -Bowen smiled grimly. “Quite logical. Henderson will find that he gave -me five thousand of his cash when he’s going to need it all. Before -the market is quite smashed down to its original state, he’s going to -loosen up on a big bunch of his stock. He’ll argue that at the right -moment. When Dickover begins to buy in again, he, too, can step -forward and get back his own—with some of Dickover’s to boot; enough -to give him control.” - -“And,” cried the girl quickly, “Dickover knows that he’ll think so! -With all his organization and power, Dickover will step in first! -Before Henderson can do it, Dickover has done it. Is that the idea?” - -“Exactly.” Bowen puffed for a moment; that cigar was too good to be -allowed to die. “Exactly. If Henderson does have the nerve to stick, -Dickover will beat him anyhow. Now do you see what the game of -Dickover is?” - -“I see. And I think I agree with you—Henderson will lack nerve. He’ll -begin to unload his stock at four cents, will unload more at three, -and throw off all of it at two to break even. Then, when he’s cleaned -out of the stock, Dickover will rob the whole market!” - -“Bully for you!” exclaimed Bowen eagerly. “I knew you’d understand!” - -“Thank you.” She smiled, a trifle wanly. He saw that the strain of -understanding had been telling upon her. After all, that block of -stock was hers! “But I don’t understand yet why you refused Dickover’s -offer for my stock; and I don’t understand why you sold him a mine at -half its value!” - -“I sold him that mine because I was going to need the money right -after lunch—and need it badly.” Bowen rose. “As for why I refused his -offer, let that go until we have lunch. I’ve licked Henderson and -Dickover this morning, which is going some; now I must add you to the -list—and I need a stimulant before opening fire.” - -The girl made no demur. They sought the dining-room together; Bowen, -no less than Alice Ferguson, was keyed up to a high tension by the big -game, and the biggest game was still ahead of him—the hardest work. - -Midway through luncheon, Bowen was sought by special messenger and was -handed a folded message. He put it in his pocket without reading, and -smiled across the table. - -“Information for which I phoned. I don’t think much of brokers as a -class, but I do know of one man in the game whom I’d trust—Gus -Saunders. Ever hear of him?” - -The girl shook her head. Bowen switched the subject. He took pains to -impress upon Miss Ferguson that he was not the magnate she had thought -him. He felt impelled to stand upon a frankly honest footing with this -level-eyed girl; he could do nothing else. - -“And it was meeting Dickover on the train and here at the hotel,” she -said, laughter twinkling in her eyes, “that started you on this high -finance wave? Good gracious! If I’d known that when you called up -about the stock—” - -“Well? What would you have said?” - -“Just what I did say!” she finished with a laugh. “Now here comes our -coffee. Can’t you possibly unburden your mind yet? I can’t stand this -suspense a moment longer!” - -Bowen grinned and slipped the waiter a gold piece. They were in a -corner of the big dining-room, and to themselves. - -“Here, my friend! Keep everybody away from us and don’t bother us -until I call you!” The waiter bobbed and departed, and Bowen drew a -sigh of relief. “Now! We’ll wade in.” - -He produced the packet of notes, and Dickover’s check for thirty -thousand, and laid them on the table before him. Then he drew forth -the message that had been brought him. - -“Miss Ferguson, my proposition is simply this: That we go into -partnership on the Apex Crown. This message is from Gus Saunders. The -Apex Crown issued five hundred thousand shares, and the original -holders unloaded everything about a year ago, so that the entire issue -is on the market—or is divided between Henderson and Dickover. We’ve -already figured out that by to-morrow most of that stock will be back -on the market temporarily.” - -“Until Dickover can swallow it at a gulp,” she added. - -“Sure. That mine is highly valuable property—if the chemical process -has really been discovered. That’s what I’m gambling on; I’m certain -that in about another fortnight the mining world will get the news. -So, then, let’s get busy! I propose that you and I step in at the -psychological moment, when Dickover has scared Henderson into -unloading; that we make a bold strike and gobble about three hundred -thousand shares of that stock at the lowest figure. In short, that we -grab the Apex Crown for ourselves! Are you game?” - -He was leaning forward, his lean face tensed, his gray eyes holding -her gaze. - -For a moment she did not respond. When she did answer, her words -surprised him. - -“Mr. Bowen, I—I don’t see why you make this proposition to me. You -have enough money there on the table to handle the affair yourself. I -cannot put any money into it.” - -“What! Then you don’t want to go into it? You have no faith in my -theories?” - -“Please don’t misunderstand me!” she replied quickly. “I’ve every -faith in you. But I cannot enter upon a partnership where I can give -nothing. Because I’m a girl, you’re generous to me—and I don’t want -people to be generous; I can fight my own battles—” - -From Bowen broke a sudden ejaculation. - -“Great Jehu! Of all the nonsense I ever heard, this is the worst!” - -“Well! Isn’t it true?” - -“No!” he exclaimed savagely. “It is not true! Not as you think. See -here, don’t you like the scheme? Don’t you realize that it’s a big -thing if successful?” - -“Of course I do. But—if I were not a woman, you’d not offer this -partnership.” - -It was Bowen’s turn to take the aggressive; he did it with a vim and -earnestness that brought the color flooding into her cheeks. - -“You’re right. I wouldn’t! It’s because you _are_ a woman that I want -you for partner in this business; I need you! Fighting for myself, I’d -be apt to do any fool trick. But with your interests hanging on mine, -fighting for you as well as for myself, saddled with the -responsibility of your trust and your future—why, I’d fight like -_hell_! Excuse me. I didn’t mean that profanely, but literally. - -“I tell you frankly, Miss Ferguson, you’d be an inspiration to any -man! I don’t talk like this to every woman. I’ve never _felt_ like -this before in my life. I never met you before, that’s the reason! -When I say I need you for a partner, I mean just that. - -“Get angry if you want to; I can’t help it. This isn’t a question of -what money you can put in. You can put in your block of stock, for -that matter; the rest is personality, outbalancing all the money on -earth! You can help me with your advice, your character. I’m not -offering you charity, God knows! - -“Now, it’s up to you—my cards are on the table. Say no, and I’ll give -you ten thousand for your stock. Say yes, and we’ll go into the game -as fighting partners. Which is it?” - -In his appeal was force and something better than force—earnestness. - -Alice Ferguson recognized it. She worked for her living, and had -learned to know something of what might lie beneath the words of a -man. She saw that Bowen’s speech might be crude and a bit too frank; -but she saw that he meant it. She read down to the good honest soul of -the man from Tonopah, and found honesty there. She realized that he -did indeed need her; that it would be a coward’s part to fail him. And -he was a man to trust. - -“Yes,” she said, her eyes grave. - -Bowen relaxed suddenly, drew a long breath like a sigh. He had been -tremendously keyed up to that moment. - -“Then let’s go,” he said, rising. “Let’s go see Gus Saunders.” - - - - - VI—POTENTIAL MILLIONAIRES. - - -Once they were settled in a taxicab, Bowen produced the five thousand -in notes, removed the rubber-bands from the package, and counted out -twenty fifties. - -“Here.” He handed the girl ten of the yellow-backs. “I need expense -money and so do you. Five hundred apiece will do.” - -“But—” - -“No time to be squeamish! We’re partners. This is an advance on the -profits.” - -Miss Ferguson offered no further objection. - -They found Gus Saunders awaiting them in his private office. A -conservative broker, this, albeit a young man; by inheritance the -junior head of a big firm; clean-cut in every line, and a good -sportsman. Bowen had frequently met him at Tonopah. - -“Miss Ferguson, allow me to introduce Mr. Saunders. Miss Ferguson is -my partner at present, Gus, in a deal we’ve got on hand; looks like a -big one, and we need your help.” - -“That’s my business,” and the broker smiled. - -“There’s a curb stock by the name of—” - -“Hold on!” Saunders flung up his hands. “Don’t talk curb stock to me. -Don’t touch the stuff, and you ought to know it!” - -“Shut up till I get through!” snapped Bowen, and grinned. “You’re -refusing no good business that comes along; and I’m paying you any -commission on this job that you care to name. I’ll trust your end of -it, Gus—and there’s no one else I can trust.” - -“Well,” conceded the other, “let’s hear about it.” - -“Neither Miss Ferguson nor I are very wise to the brokerage game,” -pursued Bowen, “but we’ve doped out a theory and a course of action, -and if it’s O. K.’d by you, and if it is feasible, then you can shoot -ahead. To-morrow there is going to be some whopping big activity in -Apex Crown, both here and at Los Angeles. - -“Everybody is going to unload that stuff; the market is to be crammed -down to two cents or under—probably under. At two cents, the man who’s -behind the move figures on jumping in and getting control of the mine. -Savvy? All right. - -“Now, we want you to step in ahead of him. When that stock touches -three cents, step softly and begin to buy. At two cents grab it with -both hands. Keep on grabbing until the price goes up again to ten—” - -“Just one minute, please!” broke in Miss Ferguson excitedly. “If this -activity does not begin until to-morrow, why can’t we begin to-day? -Every share we get is going to count for control of the mine, Mr. -Bowen. If we can get some to-day, each of our friends will think the -other man is buying it.” - -“Good,” assented Bowen crisply. “Now, Gus, will you handle it for us? -You have plenty of agents, and can pull the strings at the right -moment without trouble.” - -The broker chuckled. “This is the first time I ever manipulated curb -stocks, Bob! But we’ll tackle it. You don’t want to buy two-cent -stocks on a margin, I suppose?” - -Bowen emitted a sarcastic grunt, and drew forth his cash and checks. - -“Here are two checks Dickover handed me this morning,” and he was not -above feeling an inner satisfaction at the broker’s quickly concealed -surprise, “and some cash. An even thirty-four thousand, five hundred -in all. Will that turn the deal?” - -“What do you folks think you’re buying—Amalgamated Motors? This ought -to buy the Apex Crown outright—half of it ought to buy all the shares -on the market!” - -“Half of it won’t,” said Bowen grimly. “And you take out your -commission before the money evaporates, because we haven’t any more! -But you get us control of that mine, and as much more as the cash will -let you buy.” - -“All right. Let’s sign up the orders. Do you want to stick around here -and get my reports as they come in?” - -“Not me,” said Bowen emphatically. “Bob Bowen does not intend to -become a hanger-on and a parasite, with his nerves snapping and -bursting all to h—all to thunder! You call me up at the Palace when -I’m broke or when the deal is over.” - -Ten minutes later Bowen and Miss Ferguson returned to the street. - -“Please don’t call a taxi!” The girl laughed. “It’s such—such an awful -waste of money—and I’d much sooner walk!” - -“We’ll be millionaires on this deal; we should worry! However, I’m -with you. Let’s walk. Where next?” - -“Where? Why, I’ll have to get back to the office—” - -“The office? And you a potential millionaire?” - -She laughed, and not nervously this time. Bowen’s air was infectious. - -“I think I’ll hang on to that office, Mr. Bowen! Anyway, I’ve promised -to turn out some work by to-night.” - -They walked along in silence until they reached the Crothers Building. -At the entrance the girl paused and turned to Bowen. - -“You haven’t told me what you expect to do with that mine—when we get -it!” - -“Do! Why, what did you suppose? Work it by the new chemical process, -of course! Or else sell it outright; once the process is on the -market, a mine like the Apex Crown will be a bargain at a million! -Dickover knows. He said the stock would be worth five dollars a -share—when he got ready to make it worth that!” - -“Very well.” Miss Ferguson put out her hand. “I’ll say good-by for -this time and get back to work. You’ll let me know?” - -“You bet I will!” exclaimed Bowen heartily, seeking a pretext for -detaining her, but finding none. - -He strode along to the Palace with his head in the clouds. Come to -think of it, he had earned an afternoon of loafing! - -All the previous day he had been watching his plans go from bad to -worse, despite the puff he had received in the paper. But at nine -o’clock this morning things had begun to move, and they had continued -to move with lightning rapidity. His brain had been on the jump -keeping one step ahead. For five hours he had been under a growing -mental strain which had told tenfold upon his iron-bound physical -self. - -In five hours he had taken in thirty-five thousand, five hundred -dollars, most of it from a man whom he could never have approached in -an ordinary way. The whole thing had started with his meeting on the -limited with Dickover and the drummer. And now the majority of that -money had been laid out on a gamble which might—might—return millions! -If he could grab enough of Henderson’s stock and Dickover’s stock -combined, at the moment both men had unloaded; if he could step in -ahead of Dickover and at the proper moment get control— - -“I’ve got to stop thinking about this thing,” he muttered fiercely. -“It’s got my brain turning handsprings. There’s nothing for me to do, -anyhow! Everything is in the hands of Gus Saunders now. I need a -bracer, and I’m going to get it. Then I’ll buy some magazines and loaf -a while.” - -Bowen was the type of man who takes a drink only when he really needs -it, and does not need it often. Now he needed it, and straightway got -it. Then he visited a few shops. Having bought some clothes and -certain other things of which he stood in need, he returned to the -hotel, deposited most of his five hundred in the hotel safe, and -settled down in the lobby over some magazines. - -For half an hour he read and let his jangled nerves relax. He refused -utterly to look up Apex Crown in the papers. - -Suddenly he realized that his own name was being called by an -evanescent page with a tray. “Mr. Bow-en! Mr. Bow-en!” Rising, Bowen -attracted the attention of the buttoned autocrat and was handed a -card. It read: - - “Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle, Mineralogist.” - -“The gentleman’s at the desk? Send him up to my room in five minutes.” - -Bowen betook himself to the elevator. Who was Oliver Hazard Perry -Cheadle? The name was totally unknown to him. Arriving at his room, he -sought the telephone directory, but found no such name listed. - -Mr. O. H. P. Cheadle proved to be a plump, chalky-faced little man -with the bland countenance of a cherub. His eyelids blinked behind -thick spectacles. His linen was dirty to a degree. He spoke with a -slow hesitance in the selection of words. He shook hands with a limp, -flaccid grip. - -“Mr. Bowen, may I request—er—a few moments of your—er—time? You are a -very busy man, I know, but I believe that I have a—er—a proposition to -interest you. I read of your being here in—er—the paper—” - -“Sit down and rest your heels,” said Bowen cordially, laughing to -himself. - -So here was another result of his publicity! It was something to be a -public character, to be classed with the great Dickover! - -Mr. Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle, like a solemn little owl, went -directly to business. He had just come to town from Arizona. He had a -mine to sell. He had seen by the paper that Bob Bowen, of Tonopah, was -heavily interested in low-grade silver properties. His holdings were -not silver, but were copper-zinc, and he was so badly in need of ready -money, _et cetera_. - -Bowen heard him out. After all, why not have a crack at everything -that offered? Zinc-copper ore was not unattractive in prospect. - -“Besides, I’ve nothing to keep me busy,” he thought. And said aloud, -“Let’s see the samples.” - -Mr. Cheadle was apologetic. The samples and assayer’s report were all -at his own lodgings. He had not ventured to think that Mr. -Bowen—er—would be interested offhand, and— - -“Well, let’s go have a look,” said Bowen, rising. The humility of Mr. -Cheadle was slightly annoying. “Where are you stopping? Oh, don’t -protest, man; I’m free for the day.” - -It appeared that Mr. Cheadle was stopping at a rooming-house just off -Sutter Street. Together the two men descended to the street, where the -magnate hailed a taxicab. Bob Bowen, of Tonopah, believed in enjoying -affluence while he had it. - -The taxi sped out Sutter, crossed Van Ness, and a few blocks farther -on veered to the left and halted before one of the extremely -old-fashioned residences, high off the sidewalk, which in this section -of the city had escaped the fire. - -Being a stranger to San Francisco, Bob Bowen did not realize that they -had entered upon what in these latter days had become the Japanese -quarter; nor, had he known, would the fact have meant anything to him. -He felt a mingled repulsion and interest in Oliver Hazard Perry -Cheadle. It was entirely reasonable that an impecunious Hassayamper -would have sought just such a dingy, antiquated rooming-house as this. - -And Bowen reasoned why not pass the good work along? He himself had -come to town practically broke; a clap on the back from Dickover had -put him on the path to fortune. Why not lend the same halo to Oliver -Hazard Perry Cheadle? - -Thus thinking, with a righteous glow of generosity warming the cockles -of his heart, Bob Bowen allowed himself to be ushered into a dark -hallway. To Bowen’s surprise, the hallway seemed roofed by stars and -specks of light; he was only dimly conscious of a crushing blow on the -head that sent him reeling and staggering into utter darkness. - - - - - VII—A PAIR OF PROFITEERS. - - -When a man is hit on the back of the head, hard enough to knock him -out without any error, it hurts. - -Bob Bowen discovered this fact with a vengeance. He had never before -been hit on the head with malice prepense; and when he came to himself -he was slow in realizing what had happened, and why. He was conscious -of a light, and also of a keenly stabbing headache. There seemed to be -a lump of some consequence behind his right ear. - -The light presently made itself clear as coming from a gas-jet against -the wall. Bowen was quite uncertain about his perspective, but finally -decided that he was lying on the floor. Pain in his wrists and ankles -told him that, incredible though it seemed, his wrists and ankles were -lashed together too tightly for comfort. - -“Guess I’m not supposed to be comfortable,” he murmured, with the -ghost of a smile. - -The murmur produced an effect. - -Into the area of gaslight above Bowen appeared a face. It was a plump -but chalky face, the face of Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle. Gone were -the thick spectacles and the bland, cherubic expression. In the stead -of them there was a leering grin that quite transfigured the erstwhile -mineralogist from Arizona. - -“Dropped you!” said Mr. Cheadle, with a complete absence of hesitation -or culture. “You poor fish! Dropped you like a inner-cent babe, I did! -Mebbe Henderson won’t grin when he lamps that mug of yours. But why -you don’t carry more cash in your pocket, I don’t see—” - -The voice died away, and the livid face. Bowen felt unconsciousness -swirling upon him; but before his senses lapsed, he realized that -things are seldom what they seem, and that in his first half-amused -judgment of Mr. Cheadle he had made a grievous error. Then he fell -asleep, entirely satisfied on that point. - -When he wakened again he saw through half-closed lids that now it was -broad daylight. Hearing the voices of two men in the room, and -recognizing both voices, Bowen did not open his eyes fully. Instead, -he shut them again and kept them shut for a time. - -His head was still hurting, but not with that first keen pain; it was -now the dulled, deadened hurt of an old bruise. It no longer dominated -him. He had wakened alert, with full memory of what had passed; he -was, in short, pretty much himself, except for the cold anger that -possessed him. A burning thirst consumed him, but anger dominated it. - -And when Bob Bowen was angry to the bottom of his soul, he was not the -man to pause over half-way measures, or to ask himself what might -happen. He knew what would happen if he got the chance! - -“He ain’t wise to the world yet,” said the voice of Cheadle. “Want to -stir him up?” - -“No,” the more biting tones of Henderson made response. “No time for -that now. Let it wait until to-night.” - -“Well, what then?” Cheadle was evidently impatient. “I’m tired o’ -being a door-mat, Henderson. I want to know how the big stroke is -comin’, and why; and about this poor boob—what’s going to happen to -him and us. No more obeying orders till I know why, boss.” - -The ugly note in that voice was manifest even to Bowen. Henderson -replied quickly. - -“Him? Oh, leave him till to-night. I’m not going to hurt him any more; -just let him know he mustn’t butt into _my_ games after this. We’ll -scatter some whisky on his clothes and take him over to the Mission -and leave him. He isn’t the sort of fool who spills all he knows to -the police; he’s too wise to buy chips in a stacked game! He’ll take -his lesson. - -“And now come along and we’ll sit in at the big game.” - -Footsteps and silence. Then the two voices again, less clear this -time, but quite intelligible, and a scrape of chairs. - -Bowen opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of a disordered -bedroom, lighted by a dingy window. Three feet from him a curtain -closed an old-style double doorway; the doors were not pulled to, and -in the other room were Henderson and Cheadle. The former telephoned to -some unknown “Charley,” and gave orders to be kept in touch with every -move of Apex Crown. Then he and Cheadle fell into conversation, -earnest and low-voiced. - -Though he caught only scraps of that conversation, Bowen listened in -astounded incredulity. Before him the two speakers unfolded a deeper -and craftier knavery than he had ever dreamed; schooled as he was in -the tricky mining game, the former agent of Dickover was now springing -something unrivaled in his experience for audacity and duplicity! From -the muttered voices Bowen was enabled to piece together the following -scheme of things: - -Cheadle was the superintendent in charge of the Apex Crown -development. - -Two months previously, Dickover had received private information that -a chemical process for treating zinc-silver ore economically was being -perfected. He had at once sent Henderson on a private trip to pick up -low-grade silver properties and form a gigantic combination; for as -soon as news of the chemical process reached the market, low-grade -silver would soar. Henderson had found from Cheadle that the Apex -Crown was petering out. The vein had been worked to death, and there -was no promise of picking up anything beyond. Whereupon Henderson had -conceived a plan amazingly bold and clever, Cheadle being his -accessory and abettor. - -Henderson had sent Dickover a glowing report on the Apex Crown. -Cheadle had sent his stockholders news that a twenty-five-foot vein -was opening up. Therefore Dickover had issued orders to add Apex Crown -to his low-grade holdings. Henderson had quietly bought for himself. - -“So we now own some two hundred thousand shares,” went on the voice of -Henderson. Bowen drank in every word. He felt a cold sweat trickling -down his spine as he realized that Apex Crown was worthless. - -“Sure,” rejoined Cheadle. “But I don’t get this highbrow play with -Dickover! Why bust things off with him?” - -“To make him hate me.” Henderson laughed silkily. “The day before -Dickover came to town, I went to this Ferguson girl, made her a big -offer for her stock, and then made her mad with some bullying. I -figured she’d go to Dickover or some of his brokers for advice. -Instead, she went to this boob, Bowen. You see? Bowen did the rest. He -tipped off Dickover that I was crooked; Dickover fired me, hating me -like hell! Now, Apex Crown was at nine and a half this morning—hello! -There’s a report.” - -The telephone rang. - -“Sell?” rasped Henderson, a fighting edge to his voice. “Sell? You -sell when I tell you to, and not before! No! You’ll not sell—till I -give the order!” - -He slammed up the receiver and emitted an oath. - -“Charley says the stock is getting shot all to pieces! Some one is -unloading in chunks from one to ten thousand—it’s down to seven here, -and four at Los Angeles. That’s Dickover’s work. He’s cramming the -market down—” - -“What!” From Cheadle broke a startled cry. “Then he’s discovered—” - -“Shut up!” snarled Henderson. “He’s discovered nothing, I tell you! -He’s doing the very thing I’d expected him to do. Don’t you suppose I -know Dickover from start to finish? D’you think I’ve been his -confidential agent without knowing him like a book?” - -“Then why the hell is he unloading?” growled Cheadle. - -“To bust me. He thinks I’m trying to get hold of Apex Crown. He’s -doing the very thing I knew he would do—I knew it from the day I met -you first and got your report of the petering vein! He figures that -because I double-crossed him I’ve got a yellow streak. He thinks that -I want Apex Crown because I know about that chemical process. And what -does he do? He—” - -Cheadle broke in with a coarse laugh. “Then he still thinks the ol’ -mine is worth hanging on to?” - -“Of course. You and I are the only men who know it isn’t worth a damn. -Dickover hates me now, hates me bad enough to ruin himself to get my -pelt. He’s trying to smash Apex Crown as flat as a pancake, and he’ll -do it before noon to-day! He figures that I’ll get scared. He’s dead -sure that I’ve got a yellow streak. He’s gambling that when Apex Crown -gets away down, I’ll grow scared and unload to save something from the -wreck. See?” - -“Uhuh! But what _will_ you do? What’s your game? How the devil do we -make a killing out of this?” - -“We bought our stock at two to five cents, didn’t we?” Henderson -laughed. “About noon Apex Crown will be flat. When it is, then I dump -over a hundred thousand shares in small lots. Dickover thinks I’ve -fully unloaded; he steps in to grab the stock. I help him by grabbing -back my hundred thousand shares, and the price goes up. Worse than -that, it skyrockets! When it gets to a dollar, which is about the -limit, we’ll unload for good. We’ll get rid of the whole thing at -between a dollar and fifty—and clean up a hundred thousand odd -dollars!” - -“Whew!” Cheadle’s whistle of admiration changed and died suddenly. -“But say! Ain’t that stock juggling illegal? Ain’t the gov’ment going -to investigate?” - -“Let ’em!” Henderson laughed scornfully. “If they can ever prove -anything on Dickover or me, either, let ’em! Think we are fools? With -that hundred thousand, and the low-grade properties I’ve already got, -I’ll be fixed for life when news of that chemical process gets into -print! And I’ll see that it does get into print before many more -days.” - -Again the telephone jingled. - -“Some boob is buying,” snarled Henderson, reporting to his partner in -rascality. “But the price is going down just the same. Four here and -two and a half in Los Angeles.” - -The voices dropped beyond the hearing of Bowen. But he had heard -enough. The irony of the situation was that Henderson did not in the -least realize that his clever scheme was utterly ruining the man he -hated, Bob Bowen, of Tonopah! - -“And he sha’n’t know it if I can help it,” grimly reflected Bowen. - -He fought down the panic that gripped him. He felt no satisfaction at -having correctly guessed Dickover’s plan of campaign. He felt no -delight at having correctly guessed that a chemical process _had_ been -perfected. All this was lost in the thought that he had ruined Alice -Ferguson. For himself he did not greatly care. He had been broke -before, and would be broke again! - -But the thought of the girl who had believed in him, hurt and rankled. -It must now be getting on toward noon, he concluded. By this time Gus -Saunders, through scattered agents, was buying Apex Crown here and in -Los Angeles; buying it for Bowen and Ferguson! Dickover was grimly -hammering down the stock. Saunders’s buying would be too carefully -handled to send it shooting up in a hurry. And when Saunders got all -through, according to the orders the partners had given him, they -would own a mine that was absolutely worthless! - -“As soon as we’ve got in the clear”—Henderson’s chuckling tone came -through the muffling curtain with new clearness—“we’ll spring the news -about the mine having petered out completely. Then maybe she won’t -smash! I tell you what, Cheadle! This manipulation is going to be -investigated, all right; you run out and bring up some lunch, will -you? While you’re gone, locate somebody you can trust, and have him -spread the news that Apex Crown has petered out. Have it done at -exactly two o’clock. - -“Dickover will get the wires hot in five minutes, and you can arrange -for him to discover the truth at Tonopah. Wire somebody there that the -mine’s busted and you are in Frisco.” - -“What’s the matter with your own men doing all this?” growled Cheadle -suspiciously. - -“I’m doing the operating; I’ll be the first man under investigation. -Can’t afford to take the risk, even to put a hole in Dickover’s -bank-account, blast him! But you can do it. Put on those glasses and -that line of talk you can assume, and you’ll get by. Don’t you know -any one you can trust?” - -There was a moment of silence, then a chair was scraped back. - -“I know a guy,” returned Cheadle. “I guess it can be done safe enough. -Two o’clock, eh?” - -Cheadle came through the curtained doorway and, without glancing at -the prostrate Bowen, opened a wall-cabinet, took out his thick -spectacles, and donned them. Then, as he took a step, he stumbled over -Bowen’s feet. Catching at the wall to save himself from falling, he -dislodged the wall-cabinet and sent a shower of toilet articles over -the floor. - -Mr. Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle cursed heartily and fluently. He even -kicked the man from Tonopah in the ribs, but Bowen merely grunted and -kept his eyes closed. Then Cheadle passed back into the next room. - -“Two o’clock, eh?” he repeated surlily. “Sure we’ll be clear by then?” - -“Leave that part of it to me,” said Henderson sharply. “We’ll be -clear. But be sure to have the trick turned at two sharp! That ’ll -give Dickover plenty of time to find the report is true, and to -unload. I want to see him get a crimp, the big toad!” - -“Then at two she busts,” said Cheadle. “And hurry back here with the -lunch. I’m getting hungry.” - -Cheadle grunted and a door slammed behind him. - -Bowen lay motionless, his head twisted so that he could idly survey -the wreckage caused by Cheadle’s stumble. This final move of -Henderson’s had removed his last hope. At three o’clock that afternoon -Apex Crown would be known to all men as worthless—and the Apex Crown -would be the property of Bob Bowen, of Tonopah! - -But it was Alice Ferguson that Bowen was chiefly thinking. Whose fault -but his that her little patrimony would be wiped out? - - - - - VIII—THE SMASH OF APEX CROWN. - - -Slowly anger uprose again in Bowen’s soul. After all, the disaster -that was upon him and upon Alice Ferguson was not primarily his own -fault! It was due to the machinations, the fraud and trickery of -Henderson. - -“We’re simply meshed in the net he has woven,” thought Bowen. “And -there’s no way out! Great Jehu, if I could only get my hands free for -five minutes!” - -But he could not, and gave up the instinctive effort. His hands and -feet were numb and swollen by reason of the tight lashings. The thirst -that racked him was unbearable. He kept silent, however. Ask Henderson -for a drink? Beg Henderson for mercy? Not yet! - -Time passed. - -Through the curtain Bowen could hear Henderson answering the -telephone, but not in any manner to supply further information. He -knew that the man was smoking, could smell the tobacco: it wakened the -craving within him and intensified his thirst. Once Charley called up, -and presumably demanded permission to sell, for Henderson answered -savagely: - -“I told you once before that I’d give orders! Now shut up. You sell -when I tell you to sell, and not before. Get that? I’m giving the -orders in this deal, and not you! You tell me when that stock climbs -to ninety—what? Never mind your predictions; I know what’s doing! When -it touches ninety, call me, that’s all. But don’t you dare sell until -I give you the word!” - -Again the scratch of a match, followed by silence. Bowen’s eyes were -caught by a metallic glint on the threadbare carpet, two feet from his -head—just about opposite his elbow. He stared at it for a moment -without recognition. Then suddenly his gray eyes widened a little. - -The object had been spilled with the other things from the -wall-cabinet. It was rusty and had evidently been long discarded, -forgotten. It was the slender steel blade of a safety-razor! - -“Great Jehu!” muttered Bowen. “Great Jehu! If I only could!” - -He was lying half on one side, half on his arms, which were bound -behind his back. Carefully he moved his numbed limbs, moved his aching -body. Inch by inch he moved it, sidling up and along until he judged -that his lashed hands were about level with the bit of rusted steel. -Gropingly he felt for it. A moment later his searching fingers came in -contact with the razor-blade. - -Bowen relaxed, a deep breath of achievement swelling his chest. He lay -quiet, half fearing lest his movements had been heard by Henderson. -But no sign came from the other room. - -As the possibilities unfolded, a desperate inspiration flashed upon -Bowen’s brain. - -After all, there was still a chance, more than a chance, of retrieving -the disaster! That bit of rusted steel placed hope between his hands! -How late it was, he could not tell, but it must be long past noon, -although Cheadle had not yet returned with the luncheon. Bowen smiled -at the thought. If he could but free his feet and wrists! If he could -but down those two scoundrels! If he could but telephone to Gus -Saunders before two o’clock! Then the market for Apex Crown would be -at its height, and Saunders could unload before the crash! - -Bowen had dreamed of millions, when he believed the mine to be good. -Now that it was a question of at best getting out from under, there -was still hope of cleaning up a tidy fortune. But he would have to -phone Gus Saunders before two o’clock! - -Cautiously holding the edged blade in his almost senseless fingers, -Bob Bowen fumbled with it for the cord that bound his wrists behind -him. He could not make the keen blade reach. Just as he realized this, -just as he realized that the job was not going to be so easy as it had -seemed, he heard Cheadle enter the adjoining room. - -“Done it, Henderson!” Cheadle apparently set down a basket, for there -was a rattle of dishes. “There’s lunch.” - -“You fixed it all right? Sure it’s safe?” demanded the eager voice of -Henderson. - -“Safe as shootin’, pardner! At two o’clock the storm busts, and Lord -help us if we ain’t somewheres else!” - -“Leave that to me. What’s this you got to drink—milk! You’re a nice -one, you are! Bringing me milk to drink—” - -“It’s all you get. I mean that you shall keep a clear head to-day, -pardner. No booze in yours until we’ve cashed in! Now lay out the -grub. Have you looked at _him_ in there? Has he waked up yet?” - -“Don’t know and don’t care,” grunted Henderson. - -Cheadle came striding through the doorway. Forewarned, Bowen closed -his hand over the bit of rusty steel in his palm. He looked up at -Cheadle, who bent over and examined his bonds. - -“Don’t I get something to eat?” hoarsely demanded Bowen. “Give me a -drink at least—” - -“You shut up.” Cheadle bestowed upon him a gentle kick. “You’re blamed -lucky to get off at all!” - -Cheadle strode back to his partner in crime. Henderson began retailing -reports that had come over the phone, but now Bowen paid no heed to -the mumble of voices. - -Working frantically, Bowen strove to reach his wrist-cords with the -edged steel. At first he found it practically impossible. Twice the -blade slipped in his numbed fingers and struck into his flesh. Fearful -lest he sever a wrist-artery, he took more caution. - -At length he got a grip that held upon the thin steel, and to his keen -joy felt the tip of the blade touch a cord. Slowly it bit through. A -slight tug told him that the strand had parted. Dropping the blade, he -worked his arms until the severed cord loosened. Scarce sensible of -the motion, scarce able to make his brain control the congested -members, Bowen drew his arms from beneath him. - -He was free—but for the moment, helpless. He could not move his hands; -they were swollen and purpled, quite without feeling. - -For a while he lay, content to slowly chafe the life back into his -fingers. With an effort he sat up, found the razor-blade where he had -dropped it, and freed his ankles. Still he could do no more than -strive to bring the banished blood back into hands and feet. Motion -intensified his thirst, which seemed burning the throat out of him! -But he made no sound. - -Slowly strength and control came back to his hands. He clenched them -with a grim smile; they were pretty good hands after all—quite equal -to the work that lay ahead! And suddenly, as he cautiously tried to -gain his feet without noise, he heard a chair scraped back in the -adjoining room. - -“Confound that grapefruit!” It was Henderson who spoke, with -irritation. “I’m going across the hall to the toilet and wash up. Call -me if Charley rings up.” - -“Sure,” responded Cheadle. - -The door slammed after Henderson. The next instant Bowen heard the -footsteps of Cheadle crossing the floor—toward him. - -Catlike, the man from Tonopah came to his feet, looked swiftly around -for a weapon. He could not trust his fists—yet! There was too much at -stake. He must call Gus Saunders before two o’clock! - -As the dumpy figure of Cheadle parted the curtains, Bowen caught up a -small footstool—the first object to hand—and hurled it. The hassock -took Cheadle in the side of the head and knocked him sprawling. Before -he could recover, Bowen was upon him; and, without any mercy, struck -two blows that knocked out the fat little mining man. - -Moving rapidly, Bowen caught up the cords that had bound him, tied -Cheadle hand and foot, and rolled the inert body under the bed. Barely -had he finished and come erect, when Henderson returned to the -adjoining room. - -“Nothing doing yet, eh?” he sang out. The telephone rang, and saved -Bowen from making any response. Henderson took the message and -repeated his former commands. - -“Well, didn’t I tell you the stock was kiting up? Now you wait for my -order to sell, and keep your ear close to the phone! I want no monkey -business at the last moment.” - -Henderson banged up the receiver. “She’s up to ninety, Cheadle!” he -called exultantly. “What ’d I tell you, eh? It’s just ten minutes of -two now. In five minutes I’ll give Charley orders to sell—” - -“I’ll bet you two to one you don’t,” said Bowen, stepping into the -room. - -He had thought to take Henderson by surprise; to down the -thunderstruck man without a struggle. But he had far underestimated -Dickover’s former agent. Henderson had spread upon a small table which -bore the telephone, the dishes borne in by Cheadle. Without a second’s -hesitation, Henderson picked up a heavy restaurant coffee-cup and -hurled it fair and square at the face of his opponent. - -Caught athwart the forehead by the missile, Bowen almost crumpled up. -Henderson was upon him like a wildcat, beating at him with another -cup. Bowen could do no more than clinch. - -Locked in each other’s arms, the two men reeled back and forth, -smashed over chairs, went crashing into the wall with terrific impact. -The shock separated them. Henderson’s arm swept up; the heavy crockery -cracked down upon Bowen’s head, struck full against the blood-black -bruise Cheadle had given him, and shivered to pieces. - -Under that terrific blow, Bob Bowen felt himself going, and going -fast. He lunged forward and caught Henderson about the body: A final -great wave of strength surged into him, and he threw Henderson over -his hip—an old wrestling trick. He saw the man drive head first into -the wall—and saw no more. For the second time, his knees were loosened -and black darkness engulfed his soul. - -When he wakened again, Bowen sat up and looked around dazedly, -wondering at the deadly ache in his head. He remembered by slow -degrees. He saw Henderson lying across the room, lying in a limp mass. -He heard the man’s stertorous breathing. It was the deep, hard -breathing of a man badly hurt. - -Slowly Bob Bowen came to his feet. Staggering, he came to the table, -clutched the bottle of milk, poured the revivifying fluid down his -throat. A deep sigh of satisfaction burst from him—and then he -remembered. Two o’clock! How long had he lain senseless? - -With a groan, Bowen flung himself across the room to Henderson’s side. -His fingers trembling, he drew out Henderson’s watch. It was two -forty! - -A moment later, Bowen seized the telephone and gave the number of Gus -Saunders. He waited, frantic with suspense, until he heard the -broker’s voice. There might yet be hope! Cheadle might have made -mistakes. - -“You, Bob? Good Lord!” Saunders’s tone sent his heart down. “We’ve -been looking all over town for you—” - -“What’s your last report on Apex Crown?” cried Bowen hoarsely. “Has it -broken—” - -“Broke all to smash at two o’clock. Last report was eight cents here -and going down fast. Miss Ferguson is here. You’d better come down and -settle up—” - -Bowen slammed the receiver on the hook. “Oh, hell!” he said simply. -“Well, we’ll face the music!” - - - - - IX—FEMININE INSTINCT. - - -Bob Bowen sat in the private office of Gus Saunders at three fifteen. -On the way down-town he had stopped at a doctor’s office and had had -his head bound up. As he himself put it, a couple of days would see -him able to butt into another wall. - -“And I’ve sure butted it this time,” he said with assumed -cheerfulness, as he concluded his story. In the eyes of Alice Ferguson -he read quick sympathy—sympathy, and something else that set his -pulses to leaping. But he refused to meet her eyes. - -“I sure have,” he went on. “Where I made my mistake was in thinking -that Henderson was—was—well, that he was something less than -Henderson! My one consolation is that I knocked him out so effectually -that he never got word to the unknown Charley to sell out. When the -news of the real condition of the Apex Crown got abroad, and the -market busted all to nothing, Henderson was still rocked in the cradle -of the deep. It makes me feel better to think that that skunk went -down with us! - -“But I’m only sorry for—for your sake, Miss Ferguson. I’m not worrying -about my own money; but yours—” - -“Mine is safe,” said the girl, gazing at him with shining eyes. - -Bowen sat up a trifle straighter. “What?” - -“I have a confession to make, Mr. Bowen—a happy confession,” said the -girl, earnestly, leaning forward. “Mr. Saunders had been trying to get -in touch with you all morning and had failed. No one knew where you -were. At noon I came down here and got reports. Then the stock began -to go up and up. It reached ninety, and was still climbing! - -“To tell you the truth, I was afraid. Why? I can’t say, except that it -was just a feeling inside of me. There was no word from you; all sorts -of rumors were flying around about Apex Crown, and—and Mr. Saunders -said that the stock was being so rottenly manipulated that there might -be an investigation! That frightened me more than anything. So I told -Mr. Saunders to sell the whole thing—” - -Saunders came to his feet with a whoop of delight. - -“Feminine instinct, by George!” he shouted, his repressed mirth -breaking out in a roar of laughter. “Bob, old man, she made me sell -out the whole blamed bunch around ninety! So help me, she did, and we -did!” - -Bowen stared from one to the other, staggered. He could not at first -grasp the reality of what had taken place. - -“You’re not trying just to brace me up—” - -“Rats!” Saunders clapped him on the shoulders happily. “Not a bit of -it. I’m a cold-blooded business man, and I don’t give a whoop about -bracing you up! As a matter of fact, I did not get control of the -stock after all. Henderson’s holdings never did come on the market, -you know, except in part. So when I saw how things were going, I let -Miss Ferguson boss the job. And it’s blamed lucky I did!” - -“Great Jehu!” said Bowen slowly. “Then—then we’re not broke after -all—” - -“Not by two hundred thousand or so! Which, I judge, our friend -Dickover pays—” - -Bowen came to his feet, a trifle unsteadily. - -“Gus,” he said, his voice solemn, but a twinkle in his gray eyes, -“this can only happen once in a lifetime. Thank Heaven it happened in -my lifetime! Now, see here. It was Miss Ferguson who saved the bacon -to-day, and I want to tell you that she’s too good a partner to lose. -Would you mind making this a real private office for a few minutes?” - -With a blank look that swiftly changed to a grin of comprehension, Mr. -Saunders left. - -Bowen turned to Alice Ferguson, and at sight of her rapidly crimsoning -countenance the old boyish smile came to his lips. - -“Hold on!” he exclaimed. “Don’t say anything for about two minutes, -please! I’m all done with business. I don’t want to hear the word -again—between us. When I’m talking about partnership like I want to -talk, I mean something else than business! Maybe you’ll think that I’m -pretty sudden, but I tell you that I never met any one like you -before, and I never will again. And I want you to listen, because—” - -And Alice Ferguson listened. - - (The end.) - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 2, 1918 -issue of All-Story Weekly magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOB BOWEN COMES TO TOWN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Bedford-Jones</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.0em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - .ce { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:0; } - .w001 { margin-left:15%; width:70% } - .x-ebookmaker .w001 { margin-left:5%; width:90% } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bob Bowen Comes to Town, by H. Bedford-Jones</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Bob Bowen Comes to Town</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Bedford-Jones</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 8, 2022 [eBook #67361]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark. This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOB BOWEN COMES TO TOWN ***</div> -<div class='ce'> -<h1>Bob Bowen Comes to Town </h1> -<div>By H. Bedford-Jones</div> -</div> -<div id='i001' style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;' class='w001'> - <img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -</div> -<h2>I—MINING STOCK. </h2> -<p>The fat man squeezed himself into the chair of the smoking-room, eyed -the lean man and the drummer who had stretched out on the cushioned -seat, wiped his beaded brow, and sighed.</p> - -<p>“This central California,” he observed squeakily, “is the hottest -place this side of Topheth! Thank Heaven, we get into Frisco -to-night.”</p> - -<p>The drummer from San Francisco resented the diminutive and gave him a -casual stare. The lean man said nothing. Then the drummer turned to -the lean man and picked up a thread of conversation which had -apparently been broken by the fat man’s entrance.</p> - -<p>“This here ruby silver, now,” he argued. “I’ve heard it ain’t up to -snuff. Ain’t nothin’ in working it, they tell me.”</p> - -<p>The lean man smiled. When he smiled, his jaw looked a little leaner -and stronger, and he was quite a likeable chap.</p> - -<p>“You can hear ’most anything, especially about ores,” he remarked, -between pulls at his cigar. “But Tonopah was founded on ruby silver, -and the Tonopah mines are not exactly poor properties to own.” His -eyes twinkled, as if at some secret jest.</p> - -<p>“But they tell me,” persisted the drummer, “that ruby silver’s got too -much arsenic in it to make development and smelting pay. Besides it -comes in small veins—”</p> - -<p>“It has not too much arsenic to make smelting pay—sometimes! It does -not come in small veins—sometimes! Look at the Yellow Jack, the -richest mine over at Tonopah! They busted into ruby silver; last week -a bunch of mining sharks come and look over the outcrop. They wire -east, and their principals pay a cool million and a half cash for the -property. That’s what ruby silver did for the Yellow Jack!”</p> - -<p>“How d’you know so much about, it?” demanded the drummer. “You been up -that way yourself, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I’m the man who sold out the Yellow Jack.” The lean man smiled again -as he threw back his elbows into the cushions and puffed his cigar.</p> - -<p>“Gee!” The drummer stared sidewise at his informant. Very manifestly, -that mention of a million and a half was running in his mind. His eyes -began to bulge under the force of impact. “Gee! Say, are you stringin’ -me?”</p> - -<p>Carelessly, the lean man reached into his vest pocket and extended a -pasteboard.</p> - -<p>“Here’s my card.” The twinkle in his gray eyes deepened a bit. “Bob -Bowen—I guess ’most everybody around Tonopah knows me. I’m going to -Frisco to sell a couple more mines.”</p> - -<p>This time, the drummer took no umbrage at the hated word “Frisco.” -Instead, he put out his hand with quick affability.</p> - -<p>“Glad to meet you, Mr. Bowen! Here’s my card. Going to the Palace?”</p> - -<p>Before the lean man could respond, the fat man leaned forward in his -chair. He stared intently at Bowen, then spoke.</p> - -<p>“Do I understand, sir,” he squeaked, “that you are Robert Bowen, and -that you have sold the Yellow Jack mine?”</p> - -<p>“You do,” said Bowen, eying him.</p> - -<p>“Upon my word!” The ejaculation was one of surprise and was followed -by a chuckle. “My name is Dickover—of New York, Mr. Bowen. If I’m not -mistaken, it was my agent who bought that mine of yours! Am I right?”</p> - -<p>Bowen’s gray eyes hardened for a moment, and then they twinkled again -and his lean hand shot forth.</p> - -<p>“Well, well!” he exclaimed heartily. “Talk about unadulterated -coincidence! And you’re actually Dickover; <i>the</i> Dickover? You’re the -man who owns half the copper mines in Arizona and two-thirds of -Tonopah?”</p> - -<p>“Uhuh. Glad to meet you, Bowen. Going to Frisco, are you?”</p> - -<p>The drummer looked from one to the other, agape. And small wonder! The -name of Dickover was known wherever ores were smelted or mining stocks -sold.</p> - -<p>Bowen and Dickover gazed at each other, appraisingly. After a moment -they began to discuss mining stocks. The drummer listened attentively, -and after venturing one timid assertion which was promptly quashed by -Dickover, ventured no more. At length the train slowed down, and he -sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p>“Gee, I’d plumb forgotten that I had to make a stop!” he said -regretfully, and held out his hand. “Mighty glad to ’ve met you, Mr. -Bowen. And you, Mr. Dickover. Mighty glad! May see you at the Palace -in three-four days. Look me up, won’t you? So-long.”</p> - -<p>So, breezily, he swung out of the smoking-room and from the train. -Bowen carelessly watched him depart, then sat up with quickening -interest.</p> - -<p>“Gone into the telegraph office—”</p> - -<p>The great magnate broke in with a falsetto chuckle.</p> - -<p>“Sure! You can gamble that he knows one or two newspaper men in -Frisco. He’s tipping ’em off that we’re on the Limited. Get our names -in the paper.”</p> - -<p>Bowen looked a trifle startled. “Oh, hell!” he uttered disgustedly.</p> - -<p>The two smoked in silence, no one else entering their compartment. -Slowly the train pulled out and with gathering speed slipped westward. -The fat man leaned forward again, his eyes on Bowen. Mirth shook his -ponderous frame.</p> - -<p>“Say!” he uttered. “I happen to know about that Yellow Jack mine. It -was sold to Dickover of New York, all right; but it was sold by a big -Swede named Olafson. No offense, pardner—but you’re some liar! What -made you string that poor boob?”</p> - -<p>Bowen laughed unassumedly, and the fat man laughed in sympathy with -him.</p> - -<p>“He asked too many questions—too curious. Anyway, I told him the exact -truth!”</p> - -<p>“Come on, come on!” squeaked the fat man scornfully. “I’m no chicken. -You can’t put it over <i>me</i>, young man!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not trying to,” said Bowen coolly, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a -matter of record that I sold the Yellow Jack mine. Only, as it -happens, I sold it to Olafson two years ago, before we dreamed there -was any ruby ore in that locality! And I sold it for five hundred -dollars. Now who’s the boob? Me, Bob Bowen! Don’t hold back, stranger; -when old Olafson sold out for a million and a half, I quit Tonopah for -good.”</p> - -<p>The fat man chuckled. The chuckle deepened into a billowing laugh that -shook his broad frame, and the laugh became a roar of mirth. Bowen -grinned wrily.</p> - -<p>“Laugh your fool head off—I deserve it!” he went on. “Still, I’ll hand -it to you at that. You with your talk of Dickover! That’s what made -our late friend really sit up and rubber. Did you notice what reverent -attention he paid to your fool dissertation on curb stocks? I’ll bet a -nickel he’ll invest twenty dollars or so in Big Daisy or Apex Crown on -the strength of your remarks.”</p> - -<p>The fat man choked over his cigar, and flung it away.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you think much of my spiel?” he demanded. “Why, I thought I -knew a little—”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” grunted Bowen, yet no whit unpleasantly. “Stranger, if you -really want to <i>learn</i> a little about curb stocks, you go and float -around the mining country a bit. If I took your pointers on stocks, -I’d be in a poorhouse next month!”</p> - -<p>“Then you’re a broker?”</p> - -<p>“No. Not by a long sight!” snapped Bowen. “I play a straight game.”</p> - -<p>“No offense.” The fat man chuckled again. “You’re really going to sell -a couple of mines in Frisco? Or was that bunk, too?”</p> - -<p>“No, that was straight enough; not the selling part, maybe, but the -trying.” Bowen sighed a little, and older lines showed in his lean -face. “I’ve got two properties close in to the Yellow Jack.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you try selling them to Dickover’s agent?”</p> - -<p>“Him!” Bowen grunted in disgust. “Stranger, that guy Henderson, just -between you and me, is crooked as hell! Know what he did? Made Olafson -give him fifty thousand dollars before he’d approve the sale! I sure -do feel sorry for old man Dickover; some day that confidential agent, -Henderson, is going to get into him good and deep, believe me!”</p> - -<p>The fat man carefully extracted two fat, gold-banded, amazing cigars -from a case, and extended one to Bowen.</p> - -<p>“Smoke. You seem to be sore on that agent.”</p> - -<p>“Not me, stranger. You can ask anybody on the ground.”</p> - -<p>“H-m! Going to the Palace, I suppose? Best way to sell mines is to put -up at the best place and make a splurge. But you know that, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t; but maybe I’ll take your advice. It listens good. No, don’t -get the notion that I’m sore on the Dickover crowd. My ground isn’t -the sort they’re after. It’s low-grade ore and heaps of it. I’ll get -after the low-graders in Frisco, see?”</p> - -<p>The fat man nodded knowingly. “What are your properties?”</p> - -<p>“The Sunburst and the Golden Lode.”</p> - -<p>For a space the two men smoked in silence. Bowen enjoyed his cigar; it -had been long months since he had smoked a cigar whose aroma even -approached this. Evidently the fat man was no pauper.</p> - -<p>The word struck bitterness into Bowen. Pauper! He himself had just -thirty dollars to his name. He would look fine, going to the Palace! -Yet, why not? He could get by with it and let the bill run, on his -appearance; if he sold his two mines, or either of them, everything -would be fine.</p> - -<p>And if not—well, something would turn up.</p> - -<p>“Yep,” he said abruptly, ending his thoughts in speech before he could -check the impulse, “I guess that was good advice. I’ll go to the -Palace.”</p> - -<p>The fat man eyed him shrewdly, but Bowen was again lost in frowning -thought.</p> - -<p>At eight that evening the Limited was “in.” Bowen took a taxi up to -the Palace. When he stepped up to the register of the big Market -Street hostelry, he found his way blocked by the bulky figure of the -fat man, who had just finished signing. The fat man turned from the -desk, saw Bowen, and took him by the arm.</p> - -<p>“Say!” he exclaimed. “Just a minute, Bowen. I want to thank you, old -man, for that tip about my agent. I’ll sure bear it in mind. You’re -all right!”</p> - -<p>Slapping Bowen on the shoulder, he departed after an obsequious -bellhop. For a moment Bob Bowen did not understand that speech; but as -he leaned over the register and saw the signature of the fat man, he -gulped in sudden, stark amazement.</p> - -<p>Great glory! The fat man <i>was</i> Dickover, after all!</p> - -<h2>II—CALLED IN FOR CONSULTATION. </h2> -<p>That evident recognition, that low murmur of confidential speech, that -friendly slap on the shoulder, turned the trick. This Robert Bowen of -Tonopah was manifestly known to the great Dickover; was palpably a -friend of the great Dickover; was clearly and openly a confidant of -the great Dickover!</p> - -<p>Realizing this, Bowen grinned to himself as the desk clerk doffed all -haughtiness and became cordially human. He realized it with greater -emphasis as he turned from the desk and found a brisk young man at his -elbow with extended card.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bowen? I’m Harkness of the <i>Chronicle</i>. May I have two minutes of -your time?”</p> - -<p>Bowen affected to eye the young man in consideration.</p> - -<p>Publicity! Well, why not? It might affect untold wonders for him. He -was arriving in San Francisco unknown and unknowing. He had ore -samples and assayers’ reports galore in his grip; but these might do -him no good unless he got the impetus he needed. And publicity would -give it to him. At least, publicity could not hurt him!</p> - -<p>“Sure,” he said, nodding toward the parlors. “Come along and sit -down.”</p> - -<p>A moment later the two men pulled chairs together and relaxed -comfortably.</p> - -<p>“Shoot,” commanded Bowen laconically. The reporter grinned.</p> - -<p>“I got a tip that you sold the Yellow Jack mine to Dickover for a -million and—”</p> - -<p>“Pause right there, Harkness!” Bowen lifted his hand, but smiled in -his whimsical, likable fashion. “You’ve got it wrong. Dickover has -just bought the Yellow Jack, but not from me. Don’t start me off with -a false report like that, for the love of Mike!”</p> - -<p>“Whew! Good thing you put me wise,” said Harkness frankly. “Well, do -you mind telling me what mine you did sell to Dickover?”</p> - -<p>Bowen gazed at him again, heavy-lidded. Was this rank deception? He -decided that it was not. There was nothing crooked about it. Besides, -Dickover had certainly known just how his words and manner to Bowen -would be seen and recognized; Dickover had tried to do him a good -turn. He was justified in taking advantage of the situation.</p> - -<p>“Frankly, Harkness,” said Bowen slowly, “I don’t want to name any -names. I’m here to try and dispose of some low-grade properties; rich -in ore, but not in rich ore. Maybe you know that the Dickover people -touch nothing but pretty rich propositions in the silver field.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, I understand.” Harkness nodded assent. “But I heard a rumor -that Dickover was here for the purpose of opening up a low-grade -system; somebody had invented a means of smelting—”</p> - -<p>“Nothing to it,” asserted Bowen. “At least, I was talking about it -with Dickover on the train, and he didn’t say—”</p> - -<p>He checked himself abruptly. He had no business talking like this. -Harkness, however, came to his feet as if unwilling to detain the -magnate further.</p> - -<p>“Much obliged for your time, Mr. Bowen; mighty good of you, I’m sure! -No special news from Tonopah way? Nothing on the inside that you’d -pass along—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sure!” Bowen grinned. “The Yellow Jack was sold to Dickover by a -Swede named Olafson. I sold the mine to Olafson two years ago—for five -hundred beans!”</p> - -<p>Harkness whistled. “Say—but you wouldn’t let me use that, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Go ahead. I should worry!” Bowen chuckled. “The joke is on me, and -everybody up at Tonopah knows it. Only don’t make me out a fool, -Harkness; two years ago there was no ruby vein known in that -property.”</p> - -<p>“Trust me! Thanks, a thousand times.”</p> - -<p>Bowen went to his room, and sighed at the luxury of it. After that -talk with the mining reporter, he had almost believed in his own -assured wealth.</p> - -<p>When he sought the “hotel personals” in the next morning’s -<i>Chronicle</i>, he smiled!</p> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em'> -<blockquote> -<p>With Mr. Dickover, on the Overland, arrived Mr. Robert Bowen, of -Tonopah, who, it is rumored, has recently disposed of large holdings -in the Dickover interests. Mr. Bowen is heavily interested in -low-grade silver properties near Tonopah.</p> - -</blockquote> -</div> -<p>And upon the mining page were separate stories; one concerning the -Yellow Jack, the other, by the authority of Dickover himself, flatly -contradicting the rumor that the Dickover interests had anything to do -with low-grade silver ores.</p> - -<p>“If nobody calls my little bluff, all right!” thought Bowen. “Now for -work.”</p> - -<p>Having a list of every one who might put capital into his holdings, -Bowen engaged a car by the day and set forth.</p> - -<p>At four that afternoon, with ten dollars left in his pocket and no -hope left in his soul, Bob Bowen of Tonopah reentered his room at the -hotel and threw down his grip.</p> - -<p>He had covered everybody, even to those in whom he had looked for no -interest. And always the same story: courtesy, a good reception, -growing caution, flat refusal. It seemed that nobody in San Francisco -would put a cent into low-grade silver. The Arizona crash had scared -every investor away from mines for the next six months.</p> - -<p>Bowen swore savagely to himself. Then, at the jingle of the telephone -bell, he stumbled across the room to the instrument.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bowen? A party has called you three times since this morning. -Left the number: Mission 34852. Do you wish to call them?”</p> - -<p>“If you please.”</p> - -<p>Bowen hung up. Sudden hope was reborn within him for a brief moment. -Who was so infernally anxious to see him? Who but some one to whom he -had talked that morning—some one who wanted him to return—some one who -now wanted to invest!</p> - -<p>The telephone jingled again.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bowen?” To his intense disappointment, a feminine voice impinged -upon his ear. Then his feeling changed. It was a nice voice and he -liked it. It held a softly appealing note. He imagined that it held a -trace of tears.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bowen, I’m a stranger to you; my name is Alice Ferguson. I used -to be a stenographer for your friend Judge Lyman in Tonopah. In this -morning’s paper I saw that you were here, and I wondered if I might -see you for five minutes on a matter of business. It—it is about some -stock in Apex Crown, and it means everything to me; and if I could -possibly impose on you to the extent of asking your advice—”</p> - -<p>“My dear Miss Ferguson,” exclaimed Bowen, warmth in his voice, “I -remember you very well indeed, although I never met you formally. -Sure, I’ll be only too glad to do anything in my power. Where are you -now?”</p> - -<p>“In my office at the Crothers Building. I’ll come over—”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it! I’ll be there in five minutes. Good-by!”</p> - -<p>Bob Bowen remembered Judge Lyman’s stenographer as a girl not -particularly striking, but looking very feminine, capable, and as -level-headed as a girl could be. He seized his hat and sought the -quickest way to the Crothers Building.</p> - -<p>As he strode along, his mind was busy—very busy. Apex Crown! That was -a small producing mine over in the Tonopah district; like his own -futures, Apex Crown was low-grade ore and barely paid expenses. It had -been scraping alone for about three years with the stock down to five -cents and less.</p> - -<p>But on the train, the great Dickover had said to—buy Apex Crown!</p> - -<p>Had Dickover been uttering a grim jest, thinking that the drummer and -Bowen would rush to operate on his tip? Was Apex Crown worthless? And -what was Alice Ferguson’s interest in this stock, this stock which on -the curb market was unsought and unbought?</p> - -<p>Bob Bowen reached the Crothers Building. The elevator-man informed him -that Miss Ferguson was a public stenographer. Two minutes later he was -shaking hands with her.</p> - -<p>She was as he remembered her—dark, lithe, rather grave-eyed just at -present but with merriment latent in her face; and altogether -feminine. Bowen would have been amazed had he realized how he himself -was smiling as he seldom smiled.</p> - -<p>“I’ve often heard Judge Lyman say that you were the squarest man he -knew, Mr. Bowen,” said the girl frankly, and smiled as Bowen stammered -dissent. “Nonsense! That is why I called on you. I’m up against it and -don’t know what I should do.”</p> - -<p>“Neither do I,” returned Bowen cheerfully. “What’s the trouble?”</p> - -<p>“Well, my father was a business man in Tonopah. He died three years -ago, leaving me alone. After his death, it developed that he had sunk -all his money in Apex Crown stock; this was in the early days, you -know. The stock looked valuable, but there was no immediate demand for -it. Then gradually it went down, and stayed down—”</p> - -<p>“How much stock?” demanded Bowen.</p> - -<p>“Ten thousand shares.”</p> - -<p>“Whew! Say, that was a shame! A shame—”</p> - -<p>“No. My father had good judgment as a rule,” was the grave rebuke, and -Bowen fell silent. The girl pursued her subject coolly. “This morning -a broker looked me up and made me an offer of ten cents a share for -the stock. I refused him, and he went up to twenty cents—”</p> - -<p>“He—what?” broke out Bowen. “Twenty cents?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I told him that I’d give him my answer to-morrow. The paper said -that you were largely interested in low-grade ores, and I thought you -might know something about this Apex Crown. If it’s really worth -anything, of course I don’t want to throw it away—”</p> - -<p>“Hold on a minute!” Bowen drew forth an afternoon paper which he had -bought and had stuffed into his overcoat pocket without reading. “I -don’t know anything definite, but if anything has broken loose—ah! -Here we are! Look at this!”</p> - -<p>Excitedly he laid on the desk before her the opened paper. His finger -pointed to an obscure paragraph—a list of curb stocks. The first stock -was Apex Crown. Five thousand shares had changed hands, at a price of -five cents, before the paper had gone to press.</p> - -<p>“Now, see here, Miss Ferguson!” exclaimed Bowen. “Yesterday on the -train, I met Mr. Dickover; the big plunger, you know! He said to buy -Apex Crown. Naturally, I thought he was handing me a stinger by way of -a joke. But here five thousand shares have changed hands to-day! Do -you realize that for the last year or two nobody would have that stock -at any figure? And here a broker comes to you with an offer for your -block—”</p> - -<p>They stared at each other, wordless. A touch of crimson crept into the -girl’s cheeks. Their eyes exchanged the same message of comprehension, -of surmise.</p> - -<p>“You think,” said the girl suddenly, “that Dickover is taking control -of Apex Crown?”</p> - -<p>Bowen was silent for so long that the silence became painful.</p> - -<p>“No,” he returned at last. “No. I <i>don’t</i> think he is. My cool -judgment says he is not. But what’s judgment anyhow? You hang on to -that stock, Miss Ferguson!”</p> - -<p>She flushed a little, but her eyes dwelt on his. “I—I need the money -it would bring at twenty cents,” she faltered. “And yet—look here, Mr. -Bowen! I suppose you’re a very busy man and I have no right to ask -it—”</p> - -<p>“I’m not busy,” said Bowen bitterly. “I’m on a vacation. I’ll do -anything you ask.”</p> - -<p>“I was wondering if—if you would let me indorse the stock over to you, -and then you could act as you think best. Either sell it, or bargain -for a higher figure—”</p> - -<p>She paused, her grave eyes intent upon his lean-muscled face.</p> - -<p>“If it’s too much to ask of you,” she went on, “please say so. I don’t -want to make you trouble or to impose on you, Mr. Bowen; you’re been -altogether too good in wasting this much of your time on me—”</p> - -<p>“Wasting it? Great Jehu! I was just kicking myself for wasting so much -time in not knowing you—I mean,” he added confusedly, “for not having -wasted a little time in the past—no, I don’t mean that either. Well, -if you’re willing to trust me, I’ll do my best in the matter! Where’s -the stock?”</p> - -<p>“I have the certificates here,” and the girl turned to the desk, but -not quickly enough to hide the new tide of crimson that had welled -into her face. It was not hard for any young lady to see that Bob -Bowen of Tonopah was flustered. And Bob Bowen, as this young lady knew -very well, had the reputation of never being flustered by anything or -any one.</p> - -<p>Why should she not blush, at such an unspoken compliment?</p> - -<h2>III—A QUICK SALE. </h2> -<p>On the following morning Bob Bowen did not at once leap up and dress, -nor did he disturb the morning paper. Instead, he lay quiet and -frowned at the ceiling.</p> - -<p>“No doubt at all about it,” he reflected. “She never said a word about -it, of course. She’s not that kind. Just the same, it was there. It -was in her eyes. Fear! She was afraid of something. That’s why she -gave me that stock in trust.”</p> - -<p>Instinct told him that he was right. Instinct had warned him from his -first sight of Alice Ferguson that she was afraid of something. She -had appealed to him for advice, yes; but fear had driven her further -than she had first meant to go. Bowen had seen that hidden fear ere -this, but not in the eye of a woman. It angered him.</p> - -<p>What the devil was she afraid of? Rather—of whom? The answer was to -Bowen quite obvious. Bowen had no use for brokers anyway. That hound -of a broker who had visited her, had made some kind of threats, or had -said something which put fear into her. Bowen swore to himself and -looked at the time. It was seven thirty.</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it,” he muttered, and opened his paper to the mining and -stock page.</p> - -<p>Instead of an obscure paragraph, he found that Apex Crown had leaped -into prominence. The reasons, however, were entirely unknown. On the -previous day some eight thousand shares had changed hands in San -Francisco, and the price had closed at five cents bid, none offered.</p> - -<p>In Los Angeles, however, things were different. Southern California -was the “boob” end of the State, where people speculated with penny -stocks. Here a great deal of Apex Crown had been unloaded in past -years, and yesterday had wakened the moribund stock. Here the price -had closed at five and a half. Twelve thousand shares had been quietly -picked up at two and three cents before the market had discovered the -activity.</p> - -<p>“Somebody’s got agents at work, all right,” said Bowen grimly. “And -they offered the little girl as high as twenty! Wonder if Apex Crown -broke into ruby ore? No, that’s not likely over on those holdings. -Something’s going on secretly.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the telephone jingled.</p> - -<p>“Yep, this is Bowen speaking. Who? Say it again. Oh, Dickover! Thought -you were out of town—”</p> - -<p>“I was,” returned the squeaky voice of the fat man. “Now I’m back. And -I want to see you right now. I’m coming up to your room.”</p> - -<p>“Come ahead.”</p> - -<p>Bowen struggled into his clothes hurriedly, wondering why Dickover was -seeking him. After that ten-thousand-share block? No, Dickover wasn’t -buying low-grade stuff.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later the fat man entered the room, puffing a little and -eying Bowen with angry suspicion. He refused to sit down.</p> - -<p>“See here!” he broke out suddenly.</p> - -<p>“When I slipped you a tip to take a flier in Apex Crown I didn’t mean -for you to jump into the market with both feet! Confound you, Bowen, -what’s back of this? Why are you buying stock all over California?”</p> - -<p>Bowen’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed his visitor.</p> - -<p>“Guess you’re on the wrong track, Dickover,” he drawled. “When you -told me about Apex Crown, I figured you were handing me a bum steer. I -haven’t bought a share of the stuff. Straight!”</p> - -<p>“What? You mean it?” Dickover said.</p> - -<p>Bowen laughed easily. “I’ll prove it. I haven’t ten dollars to my -name, and if the hotel wanted me to pay my bill I’d have to work it -out in jail. I’d look fine going around buying stock, I would!”</p> - -<p>There was no doubting his words. Dickover mopped his round face.</p> - -<p>“Damn it!” he said. “Who’s doing it?”</p> - -<p>“How much is it worth to you to know? I can tell you before ten -o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“You can? What d’ you know about it?”</p> - -<p>“A friend of mine holds a block of ten thousand shares. Was offered -twenty cents for it yesterday. Asked my advice, then transferred the -stock to me to be held or sold on my judgment.”</p> - -<p>“Ten thousand shares, eh?” Dickover’s eyes narrowed. “Give you -thirty.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not selling. Do you want to know who’s buying, or don’t you? How -much for my information? I’ll find out who wants this block—if you -offer enough. I owe a bill here.”</p> - -<p>Dickover grunted. Then he emitted a falsetto chuckle.</p> - -<p>“Five hundred. Waiting for you at ten o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“And your interest in the property?”</p> - -<p>Dickover grunted, turned, and left the room.</p> - -<p>Bob Bowen hastened down to breakfast. He had learned that the magnate -was keenly interested in Apex Crown—wanted to buy it himself. Why? The -only plausible explanation was that Apex Crown had broken into a rich -lode, and from his knowledge of the place Bowen thought this unlikely.</p> - -<p>At eight forty-five Bowen was striding toward the Crothers Building. -He had plenty to puzzle him, but refused to let himself be puzzled. He -needed that five hundred dollars and needed it very much.</p> - -<p>He went straight to Miss Ferguson’s office, and found her just -arrived. She greeted him with patent surprise, but with a smile that -left no doubt of his welcome.</p> - -<p>“Has that broker been here yet?” demanded Bowen bluntly.</p> - -<p>“That broker? Oh, no! He didn’t say what time he’d be here for his -answer.”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t need to. I figure that nine o’clock will fetch him, and if -you don’t mind, I want to sit around on the chance.”</p> - -<p>The girl looked away from him a moment, looked at the window, -frowningly.</p> - -<p>“Of course I don’t mind,” she said at last. “Only—I don’t want you to -lose your temper with him—”</p> - -<p>Bowen laughed frankly, a boyish laugh that was good to hear on his -lips.</p> - -<p>“I never had any temper,” he said. “I’m the mildest little fellow you -ever did see, Miss Ferguson! Honest. I’m a business man. Now, suppose -you sit down and let me dictate a letter to Judge Lyman. I don’t mean -to send it, but I mean your broker friend to hear me dictating. When -he comes in, nod and smile and tell him to wait.”</p> - -<p>The girl sat down before her machine and slipped a sheet of paper into -the roll.</p> - -<p>“All ready?” asked Bowen. “Then shoot!”</p> - -<div style='margin-left:0.5em; margin-right:0.5em; margin-top:0.7em; margin-bottom:0.7em; font-size:0.9em;'> -<span style='text-indent:0; font-variant:small-caps;'>“My dear Judge:</span><br/> -“I’m here in the big town and having the time of my life. Them are the -exact words. I yesterday met your erstwhile stenographer, Miss -Ferguson, who has an office of her own and deserves it. I don’t know -of any one I’d sooner have met—” -</div> -<p>Bowen paused, meeting the girl’s eyes on his. “That’s all right,” he -said hurriedly. “I’m writing the judge. Confidential letter. Go -ahead!”</p> - -<p>Smiling a little, the girl leaned forward. At that instant, however, -the office door opened and a man appeared framed in the opening. Bowen -gave him a casual glance. Miss Ferguson looked up and smiled—a bit -frostily.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be through this letter in a moment,” she said, “and shall be at -liberty then. Just take a chair, please. Yes, Mr. Bowen?”</p> - -<p>“Paragraph,” said Bowen, now staring past her at the window. He was -conscious that the stranger had taken a chair. “You got that property -location all straight now?”</p> - -<p>Miss Ferguson glanced up quickly, caught Bowen’s vacant expression, -and smothered the surprise in her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “All ready.”</p> - -<p>Bowen proceeded with his dictation, apparently ignoring the listener.</p> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em'> -<blockquote> -<p>“For these two holdings of mine—the Sunburst and the Golden Lode—I -want more money than has been offered me as yet. They are, of course, -low-grade ore, and if I can get rid of them at a reasonable figure, I -shall do so at once.</p> - -<p>“However, I have an appointment with Mr. Dickover at ten o’clock, and -have good reason to believe—”</p> - -</blockquote> -</div> -<p>There came a sudden interruption—from the stranger.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said, stepping forward. “Of course I couldn’t -help overhearing your dictation, sir. May I ask if you are Mr. Robert -Bowen of Tonopah?”</p> - -<p>Bowen gave him a slow stare. “I am.”</p> - -<p>“By George! It’s lucky I met you, then. I arrived from Tonopah myself -a couple of days ago, and have been trying to connect with you. My -name’s Henderson. While at Tonopah I looked over your holdings, among -others; and if you’d consider an offer on them—”</p> - -<p>Bowen drew a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, and lighted it. -He surveyed Henderson with indecision.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know you, Mr. Henderson,” he observed coolly. “I don’t want -to sell those two properties, but I happen to need cash—in a hurry. My -samples and assayers’ reports are at the hotel—”</p> - -<p>“I remember the properties very well,” broke in Henderson. “I know you -by reputation, and I know your ground by personal examination. -Frankly, Mr. Bowen, I’m bucking the Dickover interests in a certain -direction. If you’ll give me an option—”</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing!” snapped Bowen with finality. “Dickover is talking -cold cash. Of course my ore is nothing wonderful—”</p> - -<p>Henderson produced a check-book. “I’ll give you a check for five -thousand to cover both claims,” he said quickly. “Not a cent more. Yes -or no?”</p> - -<p>“Now, I like your way of doing business!” said Bowen cordially. -“That’s what I call a man’s way. Five thousand wins. Got any legal -forms around, Miss Ferguson? Are you a notary?”</p> - -<p>“I have and I am,” said the girl quietly.</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes later, with a witness called in from next door, -Henderson was the owner of the Sunburst and Golden Lode claims. Bowen -picked up the check for five thousand and handed it to Miss Ferguson.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know you, Henderson,” he said quietly, “and I need cash -badly. Further, I have an engagement in half an hour with Dickover and -this must be settled one way or the other. So, Miss Ferguson, kindly -step around the corner to the bank and cash this check for me. Good -thing you deal with a local bank, Henderson.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go right with the young lady,” spoke up Henderson. “I can -facilitate the cashing of the check, perhaps.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Bowen, his gray eyes suddenly icy. “No. You stay here, -Henderson. I want to have a little private conversation with you.”</p> - -<p>Henderson looked at him hard. Bowen’s tone had not been nice; but -then, Bowen seemed to be on the inside, and private conversation was -an alluring bait.</p> - -<p>“Well—” he hesitated.</p> - -<p>“You’d better stay,” said Bowen calmly. Then he rose and stepped -outside the door as Miss Ferguson left. He closed the door again and -spoke to the girl in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“Cash that check, then run up to the Palace and wait for me, will you? -Please!”</p> - -<p>The girl nodded. Her eyes sought his with a mischievous gleam. “You -won’t hurt him?”</p> - -<p>“Hurt him? Great Jehu! I should say not! Why, he’s Dickover’s -confidential agent!”</p> - -<h2>IV—BOWEN HOLDS THE ACE. </h2> -<p>Bob Bowen reentered the office, closed the door, set his chair against -it, and sat down. Then he regarded the surprised and frowning -“broker.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Henderson was a man to be seen once and remembered. He had a large -nose, thin slits of black hawk-eyes, shaggy black brows, and a thin -red line of mouth under a closed-clipped mustache. An able man, a -forceful man, an unscrupulous man, this confidential agent of the -magnate Dickover! Bowen, however, did not appear to be much impressed.</p> - -<p>“You wonder why I’m sitting against the door, Mr. Henderson?” he -drawled, chewing at his cigar. “For the obvious reason. To keep you -from getting out.”</p> - -<p>Henderson stiffened. He was startled and taken aback. But Bowen -continued his drawl without observing the agitation of the impeccably -dressed agent.</p> - -<p>“There’s silver,” he ruminated, “and silver. Bar-silver used to be -forty-seven; now it’s over ninety and still climbing. A low-grade ore -that cost eight dollars a ton to produce a few months ago and gave -back eight dollars, was no good. Now, however, it gives back eight -dollars’ profit and is a paying proposition. Those claims I sold you -are that kind.</p> - -<p>“Some day, and I guess it isn’t very far off, folks are going to -discover a chemical process that will take a zinc-silver ore and -separate the zinc and the silver. An ore of that kind to-day, isn’t -worth a tinker’s dam. If that chemical process is discovered, it will -be worth millions. And tucked up in my sleeve I’ve got a property just -like that.”</p> - -<p>Henderson rose impressively.</p> - -<p>“See here, Bowen,” he observed, “I don’t see what you’re driving at, -but if you mean that I can’t leave this room—”</p> - -<p>“You can leave it pretty quick,” drawled Bowen. “But remember one -thing! I’d like nothing better than to mix it with you! I’m just -itching to hold you in a corner and pound off that big nose of yours; -so don’t start anything unless you want me to finish it.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean talking to me like that?” snarled Henderson angrily. -“A moment ago you sold me two claims, and now—”</p> - -<p>“And now, having concluded business before pleasure, I’m talking. Miss -Ferguson has transferred her block of Apex Crown to me.”</p> - -<p>Henderson’s eyes narrowed. He started to speak, and bit back the -words.</p> - -<p>“That’s right, don’t get hasty,” and Bowen grinned exasperatingly. -“Took you by surprise, did it? Thought I didn’t know you, eh? Well, I -had sort of figured out that you might be you, and when you stepped in -the door I knew it <i>was</i> you. Picking up low-grade silver properties, -are you? I don’t suppose that by any stretch of friendship you’d tell -me why you’re picking them up?”</p> - -<p>Henderson’s face went livid with anger.</p> - -<p>“So you cut in ahead of me!” he rasped. “You got that little fool of a -girl to hand over the stock—”</p> - -<p>“Just one minute, Henderson!” Bowen lifted his hand. “I’ve got a -terrible temper. It doesn’t work very hard, not every day; but to hear -names and epithets applied to honest women is something that sets it -on a hair-trigger. Now, if I were you, Henderson, I’d just speak names -and leave out the adjectives. Do you get me? Get me right off the -jump?”</p> - -<p>Henderson swallowed hard. It was plain to see that he was seething -internally. But he knew men; that was his business. He looked into -Bowen’s gray eyes, and controlled himself.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” he said slowly, his voice low and tense. “What are -you driving at? Trying to force a bigger price for that stock out of -me?”</p> - -<p>“Nope,” returned Bowen cheerfully. “But it isn’t nice for a big man -like you to come in here and try to threaten and browbeat a girl into -giving away all she’s got in the world. It’s going to get you badly -beaten up one of these days. However, now that you’re dealing with me -you might prove reasonable. How much will you give for that Apex -Crown?”</p> - -<p>“Thirty,” growled Henderson.</p> - -<p>“Buyin’ for Dickover or yourself?” asked Bowen softly.</p> - -<p>The agent uttered a lurid curse. Bowen rose and kicked away his chair, -and opened the door.</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” he remarked cheerfully. “Well, I guess that check’s -cashed, so I’ll mosey along. You needn’t wait here for Miss Ferguson; -she won’t be back for quite a spell. And don’t come down in my -elevator; wait till I’m out of the way. And say—when you do come, shut -the door after you, will you? So-long.”</p> - -<p>Bowen closed the door softly and strode off to the elevator. On the -way down, he glanced at his watch. It was nine fifty.</p> - -<p>“Lots of time,” he thought. “I’ll see Dickover, then meet the little -lady.”</p> - -<p>At two minutes before the hour he inquired at the desk for Dickover, -and was sent up to the latter’s suite. He found Dickover declaiming to -a private secretary, who admitted him and then retired discreetly. Bob -Bowen dropped into a chair beside Dickover’s table and accepted the -cigar shoved at him.</p> - -<p>“I like your cigars,” he observed pleasantly. “The flavor is a little -strong for my taste, but it’s real tobacco. And then the label is -pretty. Don’t know when I’ve ever seen a prettier one—”</p> - -<p>“Confound you!” snapped the fat man. “What d’ you know?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m thirty years old, pretty near, and you’d be surprised to -find how much I’ve learned in the last decade of that time! Experience -is—”</p> - -<p>“Damn your experience!” exploded Dickover. “Do you know who’s buying -Apex Crown?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. Don’t you?”</p> - -<p>For answer, Dickover seized a check from the table and held it out. It -was for five hundred dollars.</p> - -<p>“Thanks.” Bowen stuffed it carelessly into his pocket. “Since seeing -you this morning I’ve become fairly rich, and this will add a trifle -to the pile. Your agent, Henderson, is the man after Apex Crown. Just -offered thirty for the stock I hold.”</p> - -<p>The fat features of Dickover purpled with anger. But he suppressed his -emotion, drew another cigar from his pocket, and lighted it.</p> - -<p>“I rather suspected it, Bowen,” he squeaked more calmly. “Of course -you didn’t sell him the stock?”</p> - -<p>“No. I’ll sell it to you if you want it.”</p> - -<p>“Huh! How much you want?”</p> - -<p>“Five dollars a share.”</p> - -<p>Dickover abandoned the subject, after an apoplectic choke.</p> - -<p>“Tell you what, Bowen; that tip of yours sent me up to Tonopah in a -hurry. I looked up Henderson and fired him—fired him good and hard. -The confounded crook! Now I need another man to take his place. A man -I can trust, and a man who can be trusted. Ten thousand a year if the -man makes good.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad you didn’t look around at Tonopah,” said Bowen innocently. “I -know heaps of good men up that way. You should have gone to Judge -Lyman or Tom Jerkens or some of those men and had ’em pick you out a -nice responsible party for that job. They know everybody up there. -Where do you get these cigars? Think I’ll buy me a box.”</p> - -<p>Dickover smoked for a moment in silence. Then he laughed.</p> - -<p>“I did snoop around up there, Bowen,” he remarked at last. “What kind -of a cuss are you? This morning you couldn’t pay your hotel bill; and -now you turn down a ten-thousand-dollar job!”</p> - -<p>Bob Bowen sighed.</p> - -<p>“Well, I do say that it’s tempting. It’s just that, Dickover. But now -I’ve got responsibilities, such as that Apex Crown stock.”</p> - -<p>“Huh! Well, you know those mines you told me about—the Sunburst and -the Golden Lode? I looked ’em up in Tonopah. How much you want for ’em -both?”</p> - -<p>Bowen looked up, genuinely startled. “You want to <i>buy</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Uhuh. If the price is right.”</p> - -<p>Bowen grinned. “Say, this is pretty rich! Listen here. An hour ago I -was talking with Henderson, and talking soft. Somehow he got the -notion that you were waiting here to buy those two claims off me. -Savvy? He jumps into the breach with five thousand, which is now mine. -The claims are his—”</p> - -<p>Dickover purpled with indignation.</p> - -<p>“You sold out to him; that dirty yellow dog? What the jumping devils -do you mean by it? Why didn’t you sell to me—”</p> - -<p>“Now, you just pour some ice-water over your scalp and cool off.” -Bowen’s long, lean forefinger shot out at him. “How the jumping devils -did I know you wanted to buy those claims? How did I know you wanted -<i>any</i> low-grade stuff? In yesterday’s paper you said you did <i>not</i> -want it—you’ve never touched it before—”</p> - -<p>Dickover waved his hand in helpless resignation.</p> - -<p>“Oh, shut up, Bowen! Let me think, will you?”</p> - -<p>For a space the two men smoked in silence. Dickover’s fat features -were tensed in frowning thought. To Bowen but one thing was patent: -the magnate was now after low-grade silver ores. If he had not sold -those two claims to Henderson in such a hurry! He had certainly been -hoist with his own petard that time!</p> - -<p>The thought made him chuckle. At the sound, Dickover began to speak -slowly.</p> - -<p>“Bowen, you say you want five dollars for that Apex Crown? Now, I’ll -speak frankly. Apex Crown will be worth five dollars—but not for a few -years. For the past week my men have been secretly buying it in at two -cents; and now I want that block of yours. That or nothing! I’ll offer -you par, one dollar, for that stock. If you refuse, I’ll wash my hands -of the whole mess and throw what I’ve bought on the market at the -present price. Speak quick! If I take the mine, it goes up in value. -If I don’t take it, it’s dead.”</p> - -<p>Bowen stared at his cigar.</p> - -<p>He did not doubt that Dickover was in earnest. And suddenly a light -broke upon him. It was vague and foggy, but it was light.</p> - -<p>“See here!” He leaned forward earnestly. “I’ll put this Apex Crown -offer up to my friend—she’s a lady. I’ll go to my own room and call -her up. In the mean time, you get Tonopah over long-distance. Anybody -there you’d trust down to the ground?”</p> - -<p>Dickover, eying him, nodded. “Judge Lyman is my local attorney there -and is one of the best men I know in the world.”</p> - -<p>“That goes for me. Well, you want low-grade ores of big body and -zinc-silver mixture; same as the Apex Crown and Sunburst and Golden -Lode, eh? All right. Now, I’ve had an ace up my sleeve for some years. -I’ve called it the Big Bony, and it’s located down Rhyolite way. The -ore runs zinc-silver strong, just like these others; only Big Bony has -it in large quantities.</p> - -<p>“Until about ten minutes ago, Dickover, that group of claims was not -worth a cuss. To you, if my guess is right, it’s now worth all the -money I need in my business—say thirty thousand dollars. Judge Lyman -knows all about it; has had assayers report on it, has visited the -place himself with me, and owns a bunch of claims the other side of -it. You call up Lyman before I come back.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” prompted Dickover as Bowen paused. The magnate was keen-eyed, -attentive.</p> - -<p>“That ore, I believe, is what you want. It’s really worth a big bunch -more than thirty thousand; but I’m needing thirty thousand bad, right -now! Will you buy it at that?”</p> - -<p>Dickover reached for the desk telephone. “I’ll talk to Lyman. His word -is good for all the money I own.”</p> - -<p>“Good! I’ll be back pretty soon.”</p> - -<p>Bob Bowen sought his own room and requested the office to page Miss -Ferguson, who was somewhere about the parlors.</p> - -<p>While waiting, he strode up and down savagely. Ten thousand dollars -meant a fortune to this girl! If the offer was rejected, Dickover -would carry out his word and flood the market with Apex Crown. Sooner -than make Henderson rich, he would smash Apex Crown and Henderson -together.</p> - -<p>The telephone jingled. Bowen caught up the receiver and heard Miss -Ferguson’s voice.</p> - -<p>“This is Bob Bowen speaking, Miss Ferguson. I’ll be down in a few -minutes. Dickover has made me an offer of ten thousand for your stock, -and I want your advice.”</p> - -<p>He heard the girl’s voice catch. “Ten—ten thousand!”</p> - -<p>“Yep. What I want to know is this: Do you want me to play safe on this -stock or do you want me to handle it as I would my own? I warn you, -there’s a vast difference between the two! I can’t warn you too -seriously.”</p> - -<p>She did not reply at once. Bowen waited until waiting grew -intolerable.</p> - -<p>“Hello! Are you there, Miss Ferguson?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I—I was thinking. Please, Mr. Bowen, handle that stock entirely -as if it were your own. I’ll take the chance!”</p> - -<p>“Good! Thank Heaven for your courage! I’ll be down presently.”</p> - -<p>He had quite forgotten the five thousand which she bore for him.</p> - -<p>Bowen returned to Dickover’s rooms in no great haste; talking with -Tonopah would take time as well as money. But when he entered, he -found Dickover giving his private secretary some instructions. “And -rush the papers here!” concluded the magnate. “With witnesses.”</p> - -<p>“Well?” Bowen dropped into a chair, as if casually. “Did you get Lyman -yet?”</p> - -<p>“The boy’s making out the papers now. I’ll buy. What did your lady -friend say?”</p> - -<p>Bowen felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. The game was -won—almost!</p> - -<p>“One thing at a time,” he said, laughing. “Let’s clean the Big Bony -off the slate, then clean off the Apex Crown.”</p> - -<p>“Uhuh. One thing I meant to tell you, Bowen. Keep your eye peeled for -Henderson! That fellow is bad medicine when he’s crossed, and I judge -by your manner that you have crossed him some this morning.”</p> - -<p>“I did, I hope,” Bowen chuckled. The magnate grunted non-committally.</p> - -<p>In ten minutes the ownership of the Big Bony group of claims was -transferred from Bob Bowen to Dickover. The secretary and witnesses -departed. Bowen pocketed the magnate’s check for thirty thousand -dollars.</p> - -<p>“You lost another thirty on that deal,” said Dickover complacently.</p> - -<p>“I’ll clean up fifty with the thirty I got,” retorted Bowen. The other -chuckled.</p> - -<p>“I’ll gamble that you do, at that! Well, about the Apex Crown—”</p> - -<p>“We hang on to it.”</p> - -<p>The eyes of the two men met and held for a long moment.</p> - -<p>“Then,” Dickover’s fist crashed down on the table, “you’ll go smash! -All or nothing is my motto. In three days you won’t get three cents -for that stock—and what’s more, you never will get three cents for -it!”</p> - -<p>Bowen rose, his lips curving in a smile.</p> - -<p>“Maybe. Well, I’m glad to ’ve met you. Hope we meet again.”</p> - -<p>“Same here.” The two men shook hands. Dickover extended another cigar. -“Smoke up on me after lunch, Bowen. Sorry you’re going smash with that -block of Apex Crown!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be sorry if I do,” said Bowen cryptically. “So-long!”</p> - -<h2>V—BOWEN TAKES A PARTNER. </h2> -<p>Without comment, Bowen took the flat packet Miss Ferguson handed him, -dropped into the big plush chair beside her, and glanced at his watch.</p> - -<p>“Eleven o’clock. Time to talk before lunch.” He glanced around and -found they were in no danger of eavesdroppers. Then, with leaping -pulses, he told the girl of his conversations with Henderson and -Dickover.</p> - -<p>“And I refused Dickover’s offer,” he concluded bluntly, “and accepted -his threat to smash the stock. He’ll do it, too. By this time he’s -sent orders to his brokers to sell it, to smash the market flat.”</p> - -<p>The girl’s eyes were steady on his.</p> - -<p>“I’m content,” she said curtly. “But please explain. You’ve some -scheme?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve said it. <i>Some</i> scheme! Do you mind if I smoke? My nerves are -jumpy, and they’ll be worse before they’re better.”</p> - -<p>She made a gesture of impatient assent. He lighted Dickover’s parting -gift and for a space sat in silence, his face deeply lined in thought.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to make this clear to you,” he said at last slowly. “You -know anything about low-grade silver ores?”</p> - -<p>“Very little.”</p> - -<p>“They’re low-grade because they are mixed with lead or zinc, hold a -small proportion of silver, and yield very small profit. The -separation of the silver and zinc is difficult. A hyperstatic process -has been invented, but if a chemical process could be found, it would -be cheaper and better; besides, it would make a yield of zinc as well -as of silver. And to-day both zinc and silver are soaring. You -understand?”</p> - -<p>She nodded quickly. “And—and you think such a process has been found?”</p> - -<p>A gleam of admiration sprang into Bowen’s gray eyes. For the first -time, he smiled his likable, boyish smile.</p> - -<p>“Great Jehu, there is nothing slow about you!” he breathed. “Yes. My -guess—and mind this, it’s no more than a guess—is that Dickover has -advance information that this chemical process is now a verity. You -see? It is probably workable on ores of a certain silver-zinc -combination. I deduce this from the fact that the Apex Crown, the two -holdings I sold Henderson, and the Big Bony I sold Dickover are of -almost the same identical ore properties. Only such a discovery would -get Dickover after low-grade ores.”</p> - -<p>She was leaning forward now, her eyes shining like twin stars.</p> - -<p>“I see! Of course!” she exclaimed eagerly. “Henderson learned of this -and at once went out on his own hook to secure all the mines and -claims possible containing this grade of ore! And Dickover is here in -San Francisco to buy everything in sight before news of the discovery -has broken! Is that it?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve said it. So far all’s straight. Got any questions ready?”</p> - -<p>“Heaps!” The girl laughed, then instantly grew grave. “Dickover knows -that Henderson is a traitor and has been buying Apex Crown; yet -Dickover is ready to buy our stock, make the Apex Crown a great -success and enrich Henderson! Why?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve doped it out; I struck the same snag myself—and others, too. -Like this! If Dickover gets our block of stock, he controls that mine. -He can let it lie useless for years, until Henderson has given up hope -and sold out the stock he’s been buying. And until that happens, -Dickover lets the mine lie dead for five years or fifty! Savvy?”</p> - -<p>“Sure, so far.” Miss Ferguson frowned. “It’s getting involved, though. -The salient fact is the human equation—Dickover wants to smash -Henderson first, then develop the mine!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly. He knows that Henderson is loaded to the guards with the -stock and is taking all that’s offered.”</p> - -<p>“Then why does Dickover threaten to throw all <i>his</i> stock on the -market? How would that smash anybody? Henderson could simply buy it -up, control the mine, and develop it by means of the new chemical -process!”</p> - -<p>Bowen leaned back in his chair and puffed for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Right there is where I had to make another quick guess, Miss -Ferguson. But I think I’m right. I <i>know</i> I’m right! From what I -remember of the Apex Crown affair, a fair quantity of stock was issued -in the early days; close to half a million, I believe. We can verify -the figures this afternoon. With Henderson and Dickover scrapping over -a mere block of ten thousand shares, you see they have absorbed about -all of that stock that was lying around loose. Call it about two -hundred thousand shares or more to each of them.</p> - -<p>“Now, when Dickover issued his Apex Crown ultimatum, I thought about -what I’d do if I were in his place and with his power; and upon that -it flashed over me exactly what <i>he</i> would do—the only thing he -logically could do, upon such a threat as his! Remember that Dickover -knows human nature and gambles on it; remember, also, he has agents or -brokers in every large city in the country, and can strike -contemporaneously at a moment’s notice.”</p> - -<p>“All clear so far,” said the girl quietly. “And your prophecy—”</p> - -<p>“Is this: By to-day the stock is probably up to ten cents or more, and -none offered. Dickover to-day issues orders to throw overboard the -stock, beginning to-morrow morning; to throw overboard in such big -blocks that Henderson will know where it’s coming from. He’ll hammer -down the market, hammer it down until the stock is back to two cents -or less.</p> - -<p>“And what happens? Will Henderson buy everything in sight? No. He -won’t have the money or the nerve. He’s a traitor, remember, and a -traitor has a yellow spot somewhere. Henderson will think that the -Apex Crown ore has proven unfit for going through the new chemical -process; or he may think that Dickover has put some string on the -property that makes the stock worthless; he may think any of a dozen -things, and he <i>will</i>. He’ll think all of ’em! Instead of finding -himself grown rich by a sneaky, slick trick, he’ll find Dickover -fighting him—and his nerve will go.”</p> - -<p>“Possibly,” agreed the girl, watching Bowen with fascinated eyes. “But -it’s a poor thing to bet on, isn’t it? What’s the rest of the -prophecy?”</p> - -<p>Bowen smiled grimly. “Quite logical. Henderson will find that he gave -me five thousand of his cash when he’s going to need it all. Before -the market is quite smashed down to its original state, he’s going to -loosen up on a big bunch of his stock. He’ll argue that at the right -moment. When Dickover begins to buy in again, he, too, can step -forward and get back his own—with some of Dickover’s to boot; enough -to give him control.”</p> - -<p>“And,” cried the girl quickly, “Dickover knows that he’ll think so! -With all his organization and power, Dickover will step in first! -Before Henderson can do it, Dickover has done it. Is that the idea?”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.” Bowen puffed for a moment; that cigar was too good to be -allowed to die. “Exactly. If Henderson does have the nerve to stick, -Dickover will beat him anyhow. Now do you see what the game of -Dickover is?”</p> - -<p>“I see. And I think I agree with you—Henderson will lack nerve. He’ll -begin to unload his stock at four cents, will unload more at three, -and throw off all of it at two to break even. Then, when he’s cleaned -out of the stock, Dickover will rob the whole market!”</p> - -<p>“Bully for you!” exclaimed Bowen eagerly. “I knew you’d understand!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you.” She smiled, a trifle wanly. He saw that the strain of -understanding had been telling upon her. After all, that block of -stock was hers! “But I don’t understand yet why you refused Dickover’s -offer for my stock; and I don’t understand why you sold him a mine at -half its value!”</p> - -<p>“I sold him that mine because I was going to need the money right -after lunch—and need it badly.” Bowen rose. “As for why I refused his -offer, let that go until we have lunch. I’ve licked Henderson and -Dickover this morning, which is going some; now I must add you to the -list—and I need a stimulant before opening fire.”</p> - -<p>The girl made no demur. They sought the dining-room together; Bowen, -no less than Alice Ferguson, was keyed up to a high tension by the big -game, and the biggest game was still ahead of him—the hardest work.</p> - -<p>Midway through luncheon, Bowen was sought by special messenger and was -handed a folded message. He put it in his pocket without reading, and -smiled across the table.</p> - -<p>“Information for which I phoned. I don’t think much of brokers as a -class, but I do know of one man in the game whom I’d trust—Gus -Saunders. Ever hear of him?”</p> - -<p>The girl shook her head. Bowen switched the subject. He took pains to -impress upon Miss Ferguson that he was not the magnate she had thought -him. He felt impelled to stand upon a frankly honest footing with this -level-eyed girl; he could do nothing else.</p> - -<p>“And it was meeting Dickover on the train and here at the hotel,” she -said, laughter twinkling in her eyes, “that started you on this high -finance wave? Good gracious! If I’d known that when you called up -about the stock—”</p> - -<p>“Well? What would you have said?”</p> - -<p>“Just what I did say!” she finished with a laugh. “Now here comes our -coffee. Can’t you possibly unburden your mind yet? I can’t stand this -suspense a moment longer!”</p> - -<p>Bowen grinned and slipped the waiter a gold piece. They were in a -corner of the big dining-room, and to themselves.</p> - -<p>“Here, my friend! Keep everybody away from us and don’t bother us -until I call you!” The waiter bobbed and departed, and Bowen drew a -sigh of relief. “Now! We’ll wade in.”</p> - -<p>He produced the packet of notes, and Dickover’s check for thirty -thousand, and laid them on the table before him. Then he drew forth -the message that had been brought him.</p> - -<p>“Miss Ferguson, my proposition is simply this: That we go into -partnership on the Apex Crown. This message is from Gus Saunders. The -Apex Crown issued five hundred thousand shares, and the original -holders unloaded everything about a year ago, so that the entire issue -is on the market—or is divided between Henderson and Dickover. We’ve -already figured out that by to-morrow most of that stock will be back -on the market temporarily.”</p> - -<p>“Until Dickover can swallow it at a gulp,” she added.</p> - -<p>“Sure. That mine is highly valuable property—if the chemical process -has really been discovered. That’s what I’m gambling on; I’m certain -that in about another fortnight the mining world will get the news. -So, then, let’s get busy! I propose that you and I step in at the -psychological moment, when Dickover has scared Henderson into -unloading; that we make a bold strike and gobble about three hundred -thousand shares of that stock at the lowest figure. In short, that we -grab the Apex Crown for ourselves! Are you game?”</p> - -<p>He was leaning forward, his lean face tensed, his gray eyes holding -her gaze.</p> - -<p>For a moment she did not respond. When she did answer, her words -surprised him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bowen, I—I don’t see why you make this proposition to me. You -have enough money there on the table to handle the affair yourself. I -cannot put any money into it.”</p> - -<p>“What! Then you don’t want to go into it? You have no faith in my -theories?”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t misunderstand me!” she replied quickly. “I’ve every -faith in you. But I cannot enter upon a partnership where I can give -nothing. Because I’m a girl, you’re generous to me—and I don’t want -people to be generous; I can fight my own battles—”</p> - -<p>From Bowen broke a sudden ejaculation.</p> - -<p>“Great Jehu! Of all the nonsense I ever heard, this is the worst!”</p> - -<p>“Well! Isn’t it true?”</p> - -<p>“No!” he exclaimed savagely. “It is not true! Not as you think. See -here, don’t you like the scheme? Don’t you realize that it’s a big -thing if successful?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I do. But—if I were not a woman, you’d not offer this -partnership.”</p> - -<p>It was Bowen’s turn to take the aggressive; he did it with a vim and -earnestness that brought the color flooding into her cheeks.</p> - -<p>“You’re right. I wouldn’t! It’s because you <i>are</i> a woman that I want -you for partner in this business; I need you! Fighting for myself, I’d -be apt to do any fool trick. But with your interests hanging on mine, -fighting for you as well as for myself, saddled with the -responsibility of your trust and your future—why, I’d fight like -<i>hell</i>! Excuse me. I didn’t mean that profanely, but literally.</p> - -<p>“I tell you frankly, Miss Ferguson, you’d be an inspiration to any -man! I don’t talk like this to every woman. I’ve never <i>felt</i> like -this before in my life. I never met you before, that’s the reason! -When I say I need you for a partner, I mean just that.</p> - -<p>“Get angry if you want to; I can’t help it. This isn’t a question of -what money you can put in. You can put in your block of stock, for -that matter; the rest is personality, outbalancing all the money on -earth! You can help me with your advice, your character. I’m not -offering you charity, God knows!</p> - -<p>“Now, it’s up to you—my cards are on the table. Say no, and I’ll give -you ten thousand for your stock. Say yes, and we’ll go into the game -as fighting partners. Which is it?”</p> - -<p>In his appeal was force and something better than force—earnestness.</p> - -<p>Alice Ferguson recognized it. She worked for her living, and had -learned to know something of what might lie beneath the words of a -man. She saw that Bowen’s speech might be crude and a bit too frank; -but she saw that he meant it. She read down to the good honest soul of -the man from Tonopah, and found honesty there. She realized that he -did indeed need her; that it would be a coward’s part to fail him. And -he was a man to trust.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said, her eyes grave.</p> - -<p>Bowen relaxed suddenly, drew a long breath like a sigh. He had been -tremendously keyed up to that moment.</p> - -<p>“Then let’s go,” he said, rising. “Let’s go see Gus Saunders.”</p> - -<h2>VI—POTENTIAL MILLIONAIRES. </h2> -<p>Once they were settled in a taxicab, Bowen produced the five thousand -in notes, removed the rubber-bands from the package, and counted out -twenty fifties.</p> - -<p>“Here.” He handed the girl ten of the yellow-backs. “I need expense -money and so do you. Five hundred apiece will do.”</p> - -<p>“But—”</p> - -<p>“No time to be squeamish! We’re partners. This is an advance on the -profits.”</p> - -<p>Miss Ferguson offered no further objection.</p> - -<p>They found Gus Saunders awaiting them in his private office. A -conservative broker, this, albeit a young man; by inheritance the -junior head of a big firm; clean-cut in every line, and a good -sportsman. Bowen had frequently met him at Tonopah.</p> - -<p>“Miss Ferguson, allow me to introduce Mr. Saunders. Miss Ferguson is -my partner at present, Gus, in a deal we’ve got on hand; looks like a -big one, and we need your help.”</p> - -<p>“That’s my business,” and the broker smiled.</p> - -<p>“There’s a curb stock by the name of—”</p> - -<p>“Hold on!” Saunders flung up his hands. “Don’t talk curb stock to me. -Don’t touch the stuff, and you ought to know it!”</p> - -<p>“Shut up till I get through!” snapped Bowen, and grinned. “You’re -refusing no good business that comes along; and I’m paying you any -commission on this job that you care to name. I’ll trust your end of -it, Gus—and there’s no one else I can trust.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” conceded the other, “let’s hear about it.”</p> - -<p>“Neither Miss Ferguson nor I are very wise to the brokerage game,” -pursued Bowen, “but we’ve doped out a theory and a course of action, -and if it’s O. K.’d by you, and if it is feasible, then you can shoot -ahead. To-morrow there is going to be some whopping big activity in -Apex Crown, both here and at Los Angeles.</p> - -<p>“Everybody is going to unload that stuff; the market is to be crammed -down to two cents or under—probably under. At two cents, the man who’s -behind the move figures on jumping in and getting control of the mine. -Savvy? All right.</p> - -<p>“Now, we want you to step in ahead of him. When that stock touches -three cents, step softly and begin to buy. At two cents grab it with -both hands. Keep on grabbing until the price goes up again to ten—”</p> - -<p>“Just one minute, please!” broke in Miss Ferguson excitedly. “If this -activity does not begin until to-morrow, why can’t we begin to-day? -Every share we get is going to count for control of the mine, Mr. -Bowen. If we can get some to-day, each of our friends will think the -other man is buying it.”</p> - -<p>“Good,” assented Bowen crisply. “Now, Gus, will you handle it for us? -You have plenty of agents, and can pull the strings at the right -moment without trouble.”</p> - -<p>The broker chuckled. “This is the first time I ever manipulated curb -stocks, Bob! But we’ll tackle it. You don’t want to buy two-cent -stocks on a margin, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>Bowen emitted a sarcastic grunt, and drew forth his cash and checks.</p> - -<p>“Here are two checks Dickover handed me this morning,” and he was not -above feeling an inner satisfaction at the broker’s quickly concealed -surprise, “and some cash. An even thirty-four thousand, five hundred -in all. Will that turn the deal?”</p> - -<p>“What do you folks think you’re buying—Amalgamated Motors? This ought -to buy the Apex Crown outright—half of it ought to buy all the shares -on the market!”</p> - -<p>“Half of it won’t,” said Bowen grimly. “And you take out your -commission before the money evaporates, because we haven’t any more! -But you get us control of that mine, and as much more as the cash will -let you buy.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Let’s sign up the orders. Do you want to stick around here -and get my reports as they come in?”</p> - -<p>“Not me,” said Bowen emphatically. “Bob Bowen does not intend to -become a hanger-on and a parasite, with his nerves snapping and -bursting all to h—all to thunder! You call me up at the Palace when -I’m broke or when the deal is over.”</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later Bowen and Miss Ferguson returned to the street.</p> - -<p>“Please don’t call a taxi!” The girl laughed. “It’s such—such an awful -waste of money—and I’d much sooner walk!”</p> - -<p>“We’ll be millionaires on this deal; we should worry! However, I’m -with you. Let’s walk. Where next?”</p> - -<p>“Where? Why, I’ll have to get back to the office—”</p> - -<p>“The office? And you a potential millionaire?”</p> - -<p>She laughed, and not nervously this time. Bowen’s air was infectious.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll hang on to that office, Mr. Bowen! Anyway, I’ve promised -to turn out some work by to-night.”</p> - -<p>They walked along in silence until they reached the Crothers Building. -At the entrance the girl paused and turned to Bowen.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t told me what you expect to do with that mine—when we get -it!”</p> - -<p>“Do! Why, what did you suppose? Work it by the new chemical process, -of course! Or else sell it outright; once the process is on the -market, a mine like the Apex Crown will be a bargain at a million! -Dickover knows. He said the stock would be worth five dollars a -share—when he got ready to make it worth that!”</p> - -<p>“Very well.” Miss Ferguson put out her hand. “I’ll say good-by for -this time and get back to work. You’ll let me know?”</p> - -<p>“You bet I will!” exclaimed Bowen heartily, seeking a pretext for -detaining her, but finding none.</p> - -<p>He strode along to the Palace with his head in the clouds. Come to -think of it, he had earned an afternoon of loafing!</p> - -<p>All the previous day he had been watching his plans go from bad to -worse, despite the puff he had received in the paper. But at nine -o’clock this morning things had begun to move, and they had continued -to move with lightning rapidity. His brain had been on the jump -keeping one step ahead. For five hours he had been under a growing -mental strain which had told tenfold upon his iron-bound physical -self.</p> - -<p>In five hours he had taken in thirty-five thousand, five hundred -dollars, most of it from a man whom he could never have approached in -an ordinary way. The whole thing had started with his meeting on the -limited with Dickover and the drummer. And now the majority of that -money had been laid out on a gamble which might—might—return millions! -If he could grab enough of Henderson’s stock and Dickover’s stock -combined, at the moment both men had unloaded; if he could step in -ahead of Dickover and at the proper moment get control—</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to stop thinking about this thing,” he muttered fiercely. -“It’s got my brain turning handsprings. There’s nothing for me to do, -anyhow! Everything is in the hands of Gus Saunders now. I need a -bracer, and I’m going to get it. Then I’ll buy some magazines and loaf -a while.”</p> - -<p>Bowen was the type of man who takes a drink only when he really needs -it, and does not need it often. Now he needed it, and straightway got -it. Then he visited a few shops. Having bought some clothes and -certain other things of which he stood in need, he returned to the -hotel, deposited most of his five hundred in the hotel safe, and -settled down in the lobby over some magazines.</p> - -<p>For half an hour he read and let his jangled nerves relax. He refused -utterly to look up Apex Crown in the papers.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he realized that his own name was being called by an -evanescent page with a tray. “Mr. Bow-en! Mr. Bow-en!” Rising, Bowen -attracted the attention of the buttoned autocrat and was handed a -card. It read:</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div>“Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle, Mineralogist.”</div> -</div> -<p>“The gentleman’s at the desk? Send him up to my room in five minutes.”</p> - -<p>Bowen betook himself to the elevator. Who was Oliver Hazard Perry -Cheadle? The name was totally unknown to him. Arriving at his room, he -sought the telephone directory, but found no such name listed.</p> - -<p>Mr. O. H. P. Cheadle proved to be a plump, chalky-faced little man -with the bland countenance of a cherub. His eyelids blinked behind -thick spectacles. His linen was dirty to a degree. He spoke with a -slow hesitance in the selection of words. He shook hands with a limp, -flaccid grip.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bowen, may I request—er—a few moments of your—er—time? You are a -very busy man, I know, but I believe that I have a—er—a proposition to -interest you. I read of your being here in—er—the paper—”</p> - -<p>“Sit down and rest your heels,” said Bowen cordially, laughing to -himself.</p> - -<p>So here was another result of his publicity! It was something to be a -public character, to be classed with the great Dickover!</p> - -<p>Mr. Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle, like a solemn little owl, went -directly to business. He had just come to town from Arizona. He had a -mine to sell. He had seen by the paper that Bob Bowen, of Tonopah, was -heavily interested in low-grade silver properties. His holdings were -not silver, but were copper-zinc, and he was so badly in need of ready -money, <i>et cetera</i>.</p> - -<p>Bowen heard him out. After all, why not have a crack at everything -that offered? Zinc-copper ore was not unattractive in prospect.</p> - -<p>“Besides, I’ve nothing to keep me busy,” he thought. And said aloud, -“Let’s see the samples.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cheadle was apologetic. The samples and assayer’s report were all -at his own lodgings. He had not ventured to think that Mr. -Bowen—er—would be interested offhand, and—</p> - -<p>“Well, let’s go have a look,” said Bowen, rising. The humility of Mr. -Cheadle was slightly annoying. “Where are you stopping? Oh, don’t -protest, man; I’m free for the day.”</p> - -<p>It appeared that Mr. Cheadle was stopping at a rooming-house just off -Sutter Street. Together the two men descended to the street, where the -magnate hailed a taxicab. Bob Bowen, of Tonopah, believed in enjoying -affluence while he had it.</p> - -<p>The taxi sped out Sutter, crossed Van Ness, and a few blocks farther -on veered to the left and halted before one of the extremely -old-fashioned residences, high off the sidewalk, which in this section -of the city had escaped the fire.</p> - -<p>Being a stranger to San Francisco, Bob Bowen did not realize that they -had entered upon what in these latter days had become the Japanese -quarter; nor, had he known, would the fact have meant anything to him. -He felt a mingled repulsion and interest in Oliver Hazard Perry -Cheadle. It was entirely reasonable that an impecunious Hassayamper -would have sought just such a dingy, antiquated rooming-house as this.</p> - -<p>And Bowen reasoned why not pass the good work along? He himself had -come to town practically broke; a clap on the back from Dickover had -put him on the path to fortune. Why not lend the same halo to Oliver -Hazard Perry Cheadle?</p> - -<p>Thus thinking, with a righteous glow of generosity warming the cockles -of his heart, Bob Bowen allowed himself to be ushered into a dark -hallway. To Bowen’s surprise, the hallway seemed roofed by stars and -specks of light; he was only dimly conscious of a crushing blow on the -head that sent him reeling and staggering into utter darkness.</p> - -<h2>VII—A PAIR OF PROFITEERS. </h2> -<p>When a man is hit on the back of the head, hard enough to knock him -out without any error, it hurts.</p> - -<p>Bob Bowen discovered this fact with a vengeance. He had never before -been hit on the head with malice prepense; and when he came to himself -he was slow in realizing what had happened, and why. He was conscious -of a light, and also of a keenly stabbing headache. There seemed to be -a lump of some consequence behind his right ear.</p> - -<p>The light presently made itself clear as coming from a gas-jet against -the wall. Bowen was quite uncertain about his perspective, but finally -decided that he was lying on the floor. Pain in his wrists and ankles -told him that, incredible though it seemed, his wrists and ankles were -lashed together too tightly for comfort.</p> - -<p>“Guess I’m not supposed to be comfortable,” he murmured, with the -ghost of a smile.</p> - -<p>The murmur produced an effect.</p> - -<p>Into the area of gaslight above Bowen appeared a face. It was a plump -but chalky face, the face of Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle. Gone were -the thick spectacles and the bland, cherubic expression. In the stead -of them there was a leering grin that quite transfigured the erstwhile -mineralogist from Arizona.</p> - -<p>“Dropped you!” said Mr. Cheadle, with a complete absence of hesitation -or culture. “You poor fish! Dropped you like a inner-cent babe, I did! -Mebbe Henderson won’t grin when he lamps that mug of yours. But why -you don’t carry more cash in your pocket, I don’t see—”</p> - -<p>The voice died away, and the livid face. Bowen felt unconsciousness -swirling upon him; but before his senses lapsed, he realized that -things are seldom what they seem, and that in his first half-amused -judgment of Mr. Cheadle he had made a grievous error. Then he fell -asleep, entirely satisfied on that point.</p> - -<p>When he wakened again he saw through half-closed lids that now it was -broad daylight. Hearing the voices of two men in the room, and -recognizing both voices, Bowen did not open his eyes fully. Instead, -he shut them again and kept them shut for a time.</p> - -<p>His head was still hurting, but not with that first keen pain; it was -now the dulled, deadened hurt of an old bruise. It no longer dominated -him. He had wakened alert, with full memory of what had passed; he -was, in short, pretty much himself, except for the cold anger that -possessed him. A burning thirst consumed him, but anger dominated it.</p> - -<p>And when Bob Bowen was angry to the bottom of his soul, he was not the -man to pause over half-way measures, or to ask himself what might -happen. He knew what would happen if he got the chance!</p> - -<p>“He ain’t wise to the world yet,” said the voice of Cheadle. “Want to -stir him up?”</p> - -<p>“No,” the more biting tones of Henderson made response. “No time for -that now. Let it wait until to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what then?” Cheadle was evidently impatient. “I’m tired o’ -being a door-mat, Henderson. I want to know how the big stroke is -comin’, and why; and about this poor boob—what’s going to happen to -him and us. No more obeying orders till I know why, boss.”</p> - -<p>The ugly note in that voice was manifest even to Bowen. Henderson -replied quickly.</p> - -<p>“Him? Oh, leave him till to-night. I’m not going to hurt him any more; -just let him know he mustn’t butt into <i>my</i> games after this. We’ll -scatter some whisky on his clothes and take him over to the Mission -and leave him. He isn’t the sort of fool who spills all he knows to -the police; he’s too wise to buy chips in a stacked game! He’ll take -his lesson.</p> - -<p>“And now come along and we’ll sit in at the big game.”</p> - -<p>Footsteps and silence. Then the two voices again, less clear this -time, but quite intelligible, and a scrape of chairs.</p> - -<p>Bowen opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of a disordered -bedroom, lighted by a dingy window. Three feet from him a curtain -closed an old-style double doorway; the doors were not pulled to, and -in the other room were Henderson and Cheadle. The former telephoned to -some unknown “Charley,” and gave orders to be kept in touch with every -move of Apex Crown. Then he and Cheadle fell into conversation, -earnest and low-voiced.</p> - -<p>Though he caught only scraps of that conversation, Bowen listened in -astounded incredulity. Before him the two speakers unfolded a deeper -and craftier knavery than he had ever dreamed; schooled as he was in -the tricky mining game, the former agent of Dickover was now springing -something unrivaled in his experience for audacity and duplicity! From -the muttered voices Bowen was enabled to piece together the following -scheme of things:</p> - -<p>Cheadle was the superintendent in charge of the Apex Crown -development.</p> - -<p>Two months previously, Dickover had received private information that -a chemical process for treating zinc-silver ore economically was being -perfected. He had at once sent Henderson on a private trip to pick up -low-grade silver properties and form a gigantic combination; for as -soon as news of the chemical process reached the market, low-grade -silver would soar. Henderson had found from Cheadle that the Apex -Crown was petering out. The vein had been worked to death, and there -was no promise of picking up anything beyond. Whereupon Henderson had -conceived a plan amazingly bold and clever, Cheadle being his -accessory and abettor.</p> - -<p>Henderson had sent Dickover a glowing report on the Apex Crown. -Cheadle had sent his stockholders news that a twenty-five-foot vein -was opening up. Therefore Dickover had issued orders to add Apex Crown -to his low-grade holdings. Henderson had quietly bought for himself.</p> - -<p>“So we now own some two hundred thousand shares,” went on the voice of -Henderson. Bowen drank in every word. He felt a cold sweat trickling -down his spine as he realized that Apex Crown was worthless.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” rejoined Cheadle. “But I don’t get this highbrow play with -Dickover! Why bust things off with him?”</p> - -<p>“To make him hate me.” Henderson laughed silkily. “The day before -Dickover came to town, I went to this Ferguson girl, made her a big -offer for her stock, and then made her mad with some bullying. I -figured she’d go to Dickover or some of his brokers for advice. -Instead, she went to this boob, Bowen. You see? Bowen did the rest. He -tipped off Dickover that I was crooked; Dickover fired me, hating me -like hell! Now, Apex Crown was at nine and a half this morning—hello! -There’s a report.”</p> - -<p>The telephone rang.</p> - -<p>“Sell?” rasped Henderson, a fighting edge to his voice. “Sell? You -sell when I tell you to, and not before! No! You’ll not sell—till I -give the order!”</p> - -<p>He slammed up the receiver and emitted an oath.</p> - -<p>“Charley says the stock is getting shot all to pieces! Some one is -unloading in chunks from one to ten thousand—it’s down to seven here, -and four at Los Angeles. That’s Dickover’s work. He’s cramming the -market down—”</p> - -<p>“What!” From Cheadle broke a startled cry. “Then he’s discovered—”</p> - -<p>“Shut up!” snarled Henderson. “He’s discovered nothing, I tell you! -He’s doing the very thing I’d expected him to do. Don’t you suppose I -know Dickover from start to finish? D’you think I’ve been his -confidential agent without knowing him like a book?”</p> - -<p>“Then why the hell is he unloading?” growled Cheadle.</p> - -<p>“To bust me. He thinks I’m trying to get hold of Apex Crown. He’s -doing the very thing I knew he would do—I knew it from the day I met -you first and got your report of the petering vein! He figures that -because I double-crossed him I’ve got a yellow streak. He thinks that -I want Apex Crown because I know about that chemical process. And what -does he do? He—”</p> - -<p>Cheadle broke in with a coarse laugh. “Then he still thinks the ol’ -mine is worth hanging on to?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. You and I are the only men who know it isn’t worth a damn. -Dickover hates me now, hates me bad enough to ruin himself to get my -pelt. He’s trying to smash Apex Crown as flat as a pancake, and he’ll -do it before noon to-day! He figures that I’ll get scared. He’s dead -sure that I’ve got a yellow streak. He’s gambling that when Apex Crown -gets away down, I’ll grow scared and unload to save something from the -wreck. See?”</p> - -<p>“Uhuh! But what <i>will</i> you do? What’s your game? How the devil do we -make a killing out of this?”</p> - -<p>“We bought our stock at two to five cents, didn’t we?” Henderson -laughed. “About noon Apex Crown will be flat. When it is, then I dump -over a hundred thousand shares in small lots. Dickover thinks I’ve -fully unloaded; he steps in to grab the stock. I help him by grabbing -back my hundred thousand shares, and the price goes up. Worse than -that, it skyrockets! When it gets to a dollar, which is about the -limit, we’ll unload for good. We’ll get rid of the whole thing at -between a dollar and fifty—and clean up a hundred thousand odd -dollars!”</p> - -<p>“Whew!” Cheadle’s whistle of admiration changed and died suddenly. -“But say! Ain’t that stock juggling illegal? Ain’t the gov’ment going -to investigate?”</p> - -<p>“Let ’em!” Henderson laughed scornfully. “If they can ever prove -anything on Dickover or me, either, let ’em! Think we are fools? With -that hundred thousand, and the low-grade properties I’ve already got, -I’ll be fixed for life when news of that chemical process gets into -print! And I’ll see that it does get into print before many more -days.”</p> - -<p>Again the telephone jingled.</p> - -<p>“Some boob is buying,” snarled Henderson, reporting to his partner in -rascality. “But the price is going down just the same. Four here and -two and a half in Los Angeles.”</p> - -<p>The voices dropped beyond the hearing of Bowen. But he had heard -enough. The irony of the situation was that Henderson did not in the -least realize that his clever scheme was utterly ruining the man he -hated, Bob Bowen, of Tonopah!</p> - -<p>“And he sha’n’t know it if I can help it,” grimly reflected Bowen.</p> - -<p>He fought down the panic that gripped him. He felt no satisfaction at -having correctly guessed Dickover’s plan of campaign. He felt no -delight at having correctly guessed that a chemical process <i>had</i> been -perfected. All this was lost in the thought that he had ruined Alice -Ferguson. For himself he did not greatly care. He had been broke -before, and would be broke again!</p> - -<p>But the thought of the girl who had believed in him, hurt and rankled. -It must now be getting on toward noon, he concluded. By this time Gus -Saunders, through scattered agents, was buying Apex Crown here and in -Los Angeles; buying it for Bowen and Ferguson! Dickover was grimly -hammering down the stock. Saunders’s buying would be too carefully -handled to send it shooting up in a hurry. And when Saunders got all -through, according to the orders the partners had given him, they -would own a mine that was absolutely worthless!</p> - -<p>“As soon as we’ve got in the clear”—Henderson’s chuckling tone came -through the muffling curtain with new clearness—“we’ll spring the news -about the mine having petered out completely. Then maybe she won’t -smash! I tell you what, Cheadle! This manipulation is going to be -investigated, all right; you run out and bring up some lunch, will -you? While you’re gone, locate somebody you can trust, and have him -spread the news that Apex Crown has petered out. Have it done at -exactly two o’clock.</p> - -<p>“Dickover will get the wires hot in five minutes, and you can arrange -for him to discover the truth at Tonopah. Wire somebody there that the -mine’s busted and you are in Frisco.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with your own men doing all this?” growled Cheadle -suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“I’m doing the operating; I’ll be the first man under investigation. -Can’t afford to take the risk, even to put a hole in Dickover’s -bank-account, blast him! But you can do it. Put on those glasses and -that line of talk you can assume, and you’ll get by. Don’t you know -any one you can trust?”</p> - -<p>There was a moment of silence, then a chair was scraped back.</p> - -<p>“I know a guy,” returned Cheadle. “I guess it can be done safe enough. -Two o’clock, eh?”</p> - -<p>Cheadle came through the curtained doorway and, without glancing at -the prostrate Bowen, opened a wall-cabinet, took out his thick -spectacles, and donned them. Then, as he took a step, he stumbled over -Bowen’s feet. Catching at the wall to save himself from falling, he -dislodged the wall-cabinet and sent a shower of toilet articles over -the floor.</p> - -<p>Mr. Oliver Hazard Perry Cheadle cursed heartily and fluently. He even -kicked the man from Tonopah in the ribs, but Bowen merely grunted and -kept his eyes closed. Then Cheadle passed back into the next room.</p> - -<p>“Two o’clock, eh?” he repeated surlily. “Sure we’ll be clear by then?”</p> - -<p>“Leave that part of it to me,” said Henderson sharply. “We’ll be -clear. But be sure to have the trick turned at two sharp! That ’ll -give Dickover plenty of time to find the report is true, and to -unload. I want to see him get a crimp, the big toad!”</p> - -<p>“Then at two she busts,” said Cheadle. “And hurry back here with the -lunch. I’m getting hungry.”</p> - -<p>Cheadle grunted and a door slammed behind him.</p> - -<p>Bowen lay motionless, his head twisted so that he could idly survey -the wreckage caused by Cheadle’s stumble. This final move of -Henderson’s had removed his last hope. At three o’clock that afternoon -Apex Crown would be known to all men as worthless—and the Apex Crown -would be the property of Bob Bowen, of Tonopah!</p> - -<p>But it was Alice Ferguson that Bowen was chiefly thinking. Whose fault -but his that her little patrimony would be wiped out?</p> - -<h2>VIII—THE SMASH OF APEX CROWN. </h2> -<p>Slowly anger uprose again in Bowen’s soul. After all, the disaster -that was upon him and upon Alice Ferguson was not primarily his own -fault! It was due to the machinations, the fraud and trickery of -Henderson.</p> - -<p>“We’re simply meshed in the net he has woven,” thought Bowen. “And -there’s no way out! Great Jehu, if I could only get my hands free for -five minutes!”</p> - -<p>But he could not, and gave up the instinctive effort. His hands and -feet were numb and swollen by reason of the tight lashings. The thirst -that racked him was unbearable. He kept silent, however. Ask Henderson -for a drink? Beg Henderson for mercy? Not yet!</p> - -<p>Time passed.</p> - -<p>Through the curtain Bowen could hear Henderson answering the -telephone, but not in any manner to supply further information. He -knew that the man was smoking, could smell the tobacco: it wakened the -craving within him and intensified his thirst. Once Charley called up, -and presumably demanded permission to sell, for Henderson answered -savagely:</p> - -<p>“I told you once before that I’d give orders! Now shut up. You sell -when I tell you to sell, and not before. Get that? I’m giving the -orders in this deal, and not you! You tell me when that stock climbs -to ninety—what? Never mind your predictions; I know what’s doing! When -it touches ninety, call me, that’s all. But don’t you dare sell until -I give you the word!”</p> - -<p>Again the scratch of a match, followed by silence. Bowen’s eyes were -caught by a metallic glint on the threadbare carpet, two feet from his -head—just about opposite his elbow. He stared at it for a moment -without recognition. Then suddenly his gray eyes widened a little.</p> - -<p>The object had been spilled with the other things from the -wall-cabinet. It was rusty and had evidently been long discarded, -forgotten. It was the slender steel blade of a safety-razor!</p> - -<p>“Great Jehu!” muttered Bowen. “Great Jehu! If I only could!”</p> - -<p>He was lying half on one side, half on his arms, which were bound -behind his back. Carefully he moved his numbed limbs, moved his aching -body. Inch by inch he moved it, sidling up and along until he judged -that his lashed hands were about level with the bit of rusted steel. -Gropingly he felt for it. A moment later his searching fingers came in -contact with the razor-blade.</p> - -<p>Bowen relaxed, a deep breath of achievement swelling his chest. He lay -quiet, half fearing lest his movements had been heard by Henderson. -But no sign came from the other room.</p> - -<p>As the possibilities unfolded, a desperate inspiration flashed upon -Bowen’s brain.</p> - -<p>After all, there was still a chance, more than a chance, of retrieving -the disaster! That bit of rusted steel placed hope between his hands! -How late it was, he could not tell, but it must be long past noon, -although Cheadle had not yet returned with the luncheon. Bowen smiled -at the thought. If he could but free his feet and wrists! If he could -but down those two scoundrels! If he could but telephone to Gus -Saunders before two o’clock! Then the market for Apex Crown would be -at its height, and Saunders could unload before the crash!</p> - -<p>Bowen had dreamed of millions, when he believed the mine to be good. -Now that it was a question of at best getting out from under, there -was still hope of cleaning up a tidy fortune. But he would have to -phone Gus Saunders before two o’clock!</p> - -<p>Cautiously holding the edged blade in his almost senseless fingers, -Bob Bowen fumbled with it for the cord that bound his wrists behind -him. He could not make the keen blade reach. Just as he realized this, -just as he realized that the job was not going to be so easy as it had -seemed, he heard Cheadle enter the adjoining room.</p> - -<p>“Done it, Henderson!” Cheadle apparently set down a basket, for there -was a rattle of dishes. “There’s lunch.”</p> - -<p>“You fixed it all right? Sure it’s safe?” demanded the eager voice of -Henderson.</p> - -<p>“Safe as shootin’, pardner! At two o’clock the storm busts, and Lord -help us if we ain’t somewheres else!”</p> - -<p>“Leave that to me. What’s this you got to drink—milk! You’re a nice -one, you are! Bringing me milk to drink—”</p> - -<p>“It’s all you get. I mean that you shall keep a clear head to-day, -pardner. No booze in yours until we’ve cashed in! Now lay out the -grub. Have you looked at <i>him</i> in there? Has he waked up yet?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t know and don’t care,” grunted Henderson.</p> - -<p>Cheadle came striding through the doorway. Forewarned, Bowen closed -his hand over the bit of rusty steel in his palm. He looked up at -Cheadle, who bent over and examined his bonds.</p> - -<p>“Don’t I get something to eat?” hoarsely demanded Bowen. “Give me a -drink at least—”</p> - -<p>“You shut up.” Cheadle bestowed upon him a gentle kick. “You’re blamed -lucky to get off at all!”</p> - -<p>Cheadle strode back to his partner in crime. Henderson began retailing -reports that had come over the phone, but now Bowen paid no heed to -the mumble of voices.</p> - -<p>Working frantically, Bowen strove to reach his wrist-cords with the -edged steel. At first he found it practically impossible. Twice the -blade slipped in his numbed fingers and struck into his flesh. Fearful -lest he sever a wrist-artery, he took more caution.</p> - -<p>At length he got a grip that held upon the thin steel, and to his keen -joy felt the tip of the blade touch a cord. Slowly it bit through. A -slight tug told him that the strand had parted. Dropping the blade, he -worked his arms until the severed cord loosened. Scarce sensible of -the motion, scarce able to make his brain control the congested -members, Bowen drew his arms from beneath him.</p> - -<p>He was free—but for the moment, helpless. He could not move his hands; -they were swollen and purpled, quite without feeling.</p> - -<p>For a while he lay, content to slowly chafe the life back into his -fingers. With an effort he sat up, found the razor-blade where he had -dropped it, and freed his ankles. Still he could do no more than -strive to bring the banished blood back into hands and feet. Motion -intensified his thirst, which seemed burning the throat out of him! -But he made no sound.</p> - -<p>Slowly strength and control came back to his hands. He clenched them -with a grim smile; they were pretty good hands after all—quite equal -to the work that lay ahead! And suddenly, as he cautiously tried to -gain his feet without noise, he heard a chair scraped back in the -adjoining room.</p> - -<p>“Confound that grapefruit!” It was Henderson who spoke, with -irritation. “I’m going across the hall to the toilet and wash up. Call -me if Charley rings up.”</p> - -<p>“Sure,” responded Cheadle.</p> - -<p>The door slammed after Henderson. The next instant Bowen heard the -footsteps of Cheadle crossing the floor—toward him.</p> - -<p>Catlike, the man from Tonopah came to his feet, looked swiftly around -for a weapon. He could not trust his fists—yet! There was too much at -stake. He must call Gus Saunders before two o’clock!</p> - -<p>As the dumpy figure of Cheadle parted the curtains, Bowen caught up a -small footstool—the first object to hand—and hurled it. The hassock -took Cheadle in the side of the head and knocked him sprawling. Before -he could recover, Bowen was upon him; and, without any mercy, struck -two blows that knocked out the fat little mining man.</p> - -<p>Moving rapidly, Bowen caught up the cords that had bound him, tied -Cheadle hand and foot, and rolled the inert body under the bed. Barely -had he finished and come erect, when Henderson returned to the -adjoining room.</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing yet, eh?” he sang out. The telephone rang, and saved -Bowen from making any response. Henderson took the message and -repeated his former commands.</p> - -<p>“Well, didn’t I tell you the stock was kiting up? Now you wait for my -order to sell, and keep your ear close to the phone! I want no monkey -business at the last moment.”</p> - -<p>Henderson banged up the receiver. “She’s up to ninety, Cheadle!” he -called exultantly. “What ’d I tell you, eh? It’s just ten minutes of -two now. In five minutes I’ll give Charley orders to sell—”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you two to one you don’t,” said Bowen, stepping into the -room.</p> - -<p>He had thought to take Henderson by surprise; to down the -thunderstruck man without a struggle. But he had far underestimated -Dickover’s former agent. Henderson had spread upon a small table which -bore the telephone, the dishes borne in by Cheadle. Without a second’s -hesitation, Henderson picked up a heavy restaurant coffee-cup and -hurled it fair and square at the face of his opponent.</p> - -<p>Caught athwart the forehead by the missile, Bowen almost crumpled up. -Henderson was upon him like a wildcat, beating at him with another -cup. Bowen could do no more than clinch.</p> - -<p>Locked in each other’s arms, the two men reeled back and forth, -smashed over chairs, went crashing into the wall with terrific impact. -The shock separated them. Henderson’s arm swept up; the heavy crockery -cracked down upon Bowen’s head, struck full against the blood-black -bruise Cheadle had given him, and shivered to pieces.</p> - -<p>Under that terrific blow, Bob Bowen felt himself going, and going -fast. He lunged forward and caught Henderson about the body: A final -great wave of strength surged into him, and he threw Henderson over -his hip—an old wrestling trick. He saw the man drive head first into -the wall—and saw no more. For the second time, his knees were loosened -and black darkness engulfed his soul.</p> - -<p>When he wakened again, Bowen sat up and looked around dazedly, -wondering at the deadly ache in his head. He remembered by slow -degrees. He saw Henderson lying across the room, lying in a limp mass. -He heard the man’s stertorous breathing. It was the deep, hard -breathing of a man badly hurt.</p> - -<p>Slowly Bob Bowen came to his feet. Staggering, he came to the table, -clutched the bottle of milk, poured the revivifying fluid down his -throat. A deep sigh of satisfaction burst from him—and then he -remembered. Two o’clock! How long had he lain senseless?</p> - -<p>With a groan, Bowen flung himself across the room to Henderson’s side. -His fingers trembling, he drew out Henderson’s watch. It was two -forty!</p> - -<p>A moment later, Bowen seized the telephone and gave the number of Gus -Saunders. He waited, frantic with suspense, until he heard the -broker’s voice. There might yet be hope! Cheadle might have made -mistakes.</p> - -<p>“You, Bob? Good Lord!” Saunders’s tone sent his heart down. “We’ve -been looking all over town for you—”</p> - -<p>“What’s your last report on Apex Crown?” cried Bowen hoarsely. “Has it -broken—”</p> - -<p>“Broke all to smash at two o’clock. Last report was eight cents here -and going down fast. Miss Ferguson is here. You’d better come down and -settle up—”</p> - -<p>Bowen slammed the receiver on the hook. “Oh, hell!” he said simply. -“Well, we’ll face the music!”</p> - -<h2>IX—FEMININE INSTINCT. </h2> -<p>Bob Bowen sat in the private office of Gus Saunders at three fifteen. -On the way down-town he had stopped at a doctor’s office and had had -his head bound up. As he himself put it, a couple of days would see -him able to butt into another wall.</p> - -<p>“And I’ve sure butted it this time,” he said with assumed -cheerfulness, as he concluded his story. In the eyes of Alice Ferguson -he read quick sympathy—sympathy, and something else that set his -pulses to leaping. But he refused to meet her eyes.</p> - -<p>“I sure have,” he went on. “Where I made my mistake was in thinking -that Henderson was—was—well, that he was something less than -Henderson! My one consolation is that I knocked him out so effectually -that he never got word to the unknown Charley to sell out. When the -news of the real condition of the Apex Crown got abroad, and the -market busted all to nothing, Henderson was still rocked in the cradle -of the deep. It makes me feel better to think that that skunk went -down with us!</p> - -<p>“But I’m only sorry for—for your sake, Miss Ferguson. I’m not worrying -about my own money; but yours—”</p> - -<p>“Mine is safe,” said the girl, gazing at him with shining eyes.</p> - -<p>Bowen sat up a trifle straighter. “What?”</p> - -<p>“I have a confession to make, Mr. Bowen—a happy confession,” said the -girl, earnestly, leaning forward. “Mr. Saunders had been trying to get -in touch with you all morning and had failed. No one knew where you -were. At noon I came down here and got reports. Then the stock began -to go up and up. It reached ninety, and was still climbing!</p> - -<p>“To tell you the truth, I was afraid. Why? I can’t say, except that it -was just a feeling inside of me. There was no word from you; all sorts -of rumors were flying around about Apex Crown, and—and Mr. Saunders -said that the stock was being so rottenly manipulated that there might -be an investigation! That frightened me more than anything. So I told -Mr. Saunders to sell the whole thing—”</p> - -<p>Saunders came to his feet with a whoop of delight.</p> - -<p>“Feminine instinct, by George!” he shouted, his repressed mirth -breaking out in a roar of laughter. “Bob, old man, she made me sell -out the whole blamed bunch around ninety! So help me, she did, and we -did!”</p> - -<p>Bowen stared from one to the other, staggered. He could not at first -grasp the reality of what had taken place.</p> - -<p>“You’re not trying just to brace me up—”</p> - -<p>“Rats!” Saunders clapped him on the shoulders happily. “Not a bit of -it. I’m a cold-blooded business man, and I don’t give a whoop about -bracing you up! As a matter of fact, I did not get control of the -stock after all. Henderson’s holdings never did come on the market, -you know, except in part. So when I saw how things were going, I let -Miss Ferguson boss the job. And it’s blamed lucky I did!”</p> - -<p>“Great Jehu!” said Bowen slowly. “Then—then we’re not broke after -all—”</p> - -<p>“Not by two hundred thousand or so! Which, I judge, our friend -Dickover pays—”</p> - -<p>Bowen came to his feet, a trifle unsteadily.</p> - -<p>“Gus,” he said, his voice solemn, but a twinkle in his gray eyes, -“this can only happen once in a lifetime. Thank Heaven it happened in -my lifetime! Now, see here. It was Miss Ferguson who saved the bacon -to-day, and I want to tell you that she’s too good a partner to lose. -Would you mind making this a real private office for a few minutes?”</p> - -<p>With a blank look that swiftly changed to a grin of comprehension, Mr. -Saunders left.</p> - -<p>Bowen turned to Alice Ferguson, and at sight of her rapidly crimsoning -countenance the old boyish smile came to his lips.</p> - -<p>“Hold on!” he exclaimed. “Don’t say anything for about two minutes, -please! I’m all done with business. I don’t want to hear the word -again—between us. When I’m talking about partnership like I want to -talk, I mean something else than business! Maybe you’ll think that I’m -pretty sudden, but I tell you that I never met any one like you -before, and I never will again. And I want you to listen, because—”</p> - -<p>And Alice Ferguson listened.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div>(The end.)</div> -</div> -<div style='font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-bottom:2em; - margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; - background-color:#EFF1F6; text-indent:0'> - Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 2, 1918 issue of - <i>All-Story Weekly</i> magazine. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOB BOWEN COMES TO TOWN ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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