ith Tom
Langdon; yet he acted as if I had caught him "with the goods on him." He
stammered and stuttered, clasped my hand eagerly, dropped it as if it had
stung him; he jerked out a string of hysterical nonsense, ending with
a laugh so crazy that the sound of it disconcerted him. Drink was the
explanation that drifted through my mind; but in fact I thought little
about it, so full was I of other matters.

"When is your brother returning?" said I to Tom.

"On the next steamer, I believe," he replied. "He went only for the rest
and the bath of sea air." With an effort he collected himself, drew me
aside and said: "I owe you an apology, Mr. Blacklock. I went to the steamer
with Mowbray to see him off, and he asked me to tell you about our new
dividend rate--though it was not to be made public for some time. Anyhow,
he told me to go straight to you--and I--frankly, I forgot it." Then, with
the winning, candid Langdon smile, he added, ingenuously: "The best excuse
in the world--yet the one nobody ever accepts."

"No apology necessary," said I with the utmost good nature. "I've no
personal interest in Textile. My house deals on commission only, you
know--never on margins for myself. I'm a banker and broker, not a gambler.
Some of our customers were alarmed by the news of the big increase, and
insisted on bringing suit to stop it. But I'm going to urge them now to let
the matter drop."

Tom tried to look natural, and as he is an apt pupil of his brother's, he
succeeded fairly well. His glance, however, wouldn't fix steadily on my
gaze, but circled round and round it like a bat at an electric light. "To
tell you the truth," said he, "I'm extremely nervous as to what my brother
will say--and do--to me, when I tell him. I hope no harm came to you
through my forgetfulness."

"None in the world," I assured him. Then I turned on Sam. "What are you
doing down town to-day?" said I. "Are you on your way to see me?"

He flushed with angry shame, reading an insinuation into my careless
remark, when I had not the remotest intention of reminding him that his
customary object in coming down town was to play the parasite and the
sponge at my expense. I ought to have guessed at once that there was
some good reason for his recovery of his refined, high-bred, gentlemanly
super-sensibilities; but I was not in the mood to analyze trifles, though
my nerves were taking careful record of them.

"Oh, I was just calling on Tom," he replied rath