who, at last, found himself embarked on
this mad adventure in chicanery.

"I have five millions in negotiable securities," Delancy added. "I'm
willing to spend every penny of it in 'busting' you, if you try it."

Hamilton now took up the argument, with a spirit that delighted the
listening wife. It was evident to her that he had grasped the
significance of her deceit, and was enthusiastic in following it up to
the best of his ability.

"So," he said to Morton, "you fancy that you can make the independents
leave us! Well, you'll learn your mistake presently. Do you suppose for
a minute that they'll pass us up, when we offer a fair contract for
fifteen cents, to deal with you, after you've just put the price up to
twenty-two? Nonsense!"

Morton raised an imperatively restraining hand as Carrington was about
to splutter some threat. Of a sudden, the diplomatic man of affairs
resumed his gracious, suave bearing; and his voice was agreeably
modulated when he spoke:

"Gentlemen, it seems to me that we're arguing a great deal, needlessly.
Now, you know, both of you, that I always liked old Charley Hamilton.
Well, as a matter of fact, I'm delighted to discover that his son here
has the same quality of business ability. So, my boy, why shouldn't you
come in with us? There's ample future for brains with us.... Of course,
I'm saying this on the supposition that everything is just as you have
represented it." The cold caution of the man of business cropped out in
the concluding sentence.

"Make a proposition," Hamilton directed, curtly.

"Well," Morton replied, speaking with thoughtful deliberation, "we might
take over a controlling interest in your factory for, say, two hundred
and fifty thousand."

"Such an offer as that is merely a joke," was Hamilton's contemptuous
retort.

"What do you think it's worth?"

"Conservatively, a million."

"Oh, absurd!" Morton exclaimed, reprovingly; but his voice retained its
pleasant quality. "Dear me! Youth is so hasty! Now, my boy, the truth is
that you know your factory isn't worth anything like that sum."

"I suspect that you have forgotten five fat years of prospective
profits." There came a groan from Carrington at this reference, and
Morton's face lost for a moment its wheedling amiability. But the
latter's discomfiture was of the briefest, if one might judge by
appearance.

"Is a million your lowest figure?" he demanded. Then, as a nod of assent
from the owner answered h