is lieutenants had not
been coining huge dividends out of his brains and commercial audacity,
if his magnetic, confidence-inspiring personality had not created in
the minds of all about him visions of golden rivers widening into
golden oceans, he would have been deserted and execrated. As it was,
his service was eagerly sought; and his servants endured its mental and
moral hardships as the prospector endures the physical cruelties of the
mountain fastnesses.

He was closing his private door when the door-boy from the outermost of
that maze of handsome offices came up to him with a card.

"Not here," he growled, and shut himself in.

Half an hour later the sounds of an angry tumult in the clerks' room
made him fling his door open. "What the--" he began, his heavy face
purple, then stopped amazed.

The outside doorkeeper, the watchman and several clerks were engaged in
a struggle with Fanshaw. His hat was off, his hair wild, his necktie,
shirt and coat awry.

"There you are now--I knew you were in," he shouted, as he caught sight
of Dumont. "Call these curs off, Jack!"

"Let him alone," snarled Dumont.

Fanshaw was released. He advanced into Dumont's office, straightening
his clothing and panting with exertion, excitement and anger. Dumont
closed the door. "Well," he said surlily. "What d' you want?"

"I'll have to go to the wall at half-past ten if you don't help me
out," said Fanshaw. "The Montana election went against my crowd--I'm
in the copper deal. There's a slump, but the stock's dead sure to go
up within a week."

"In trouble again?" sneered Dumont. "It's been only three months since
I pulled you through."

"You didn't lose anything by it, did you?" retorted Fanshaw--he had
recovered himself and was eying Dumont with the cool, steady,
significant stare of one rascal at another whom he thinks he has in his
power.

Before that look Dumont flushed an angrier red. "I won't do it again!"
and he brought his fist down with a bang.

"All I want is five hundred thousand to carry my copper for a week at
the outside. If I get it I'll clear a million. If I don't"--Fanshaw
shrugged his shoulders--"I'll be cleaned out." He looked with narrowed,
shifting eyes at Dumont. "My wife has all she's got in this," he went
on, "even her jewels."

Dumont's look shot straight into Fanshaw's.

"Not a cent!" he said with vicious emphasis. "Not a red!"

Fanshaw paled and pinched in his lips. "I'm a desperat