aniac contortions of faces, National Woolens and all the
Dumont stocks bent, broke, went smashing down, down, down, every one
struggling to unload.

Dumont's fortune was the stateliest of the many galleons that day
driven on the rocks and wrecked. Dumont's crew was for the most part
engulfed. Giddings and a few selected friends reached the shore
half-drowned and humbly applied at the wreckers' camp; they were
hospitably received and were made as comfortable as their exhausted
condition permitted.

John Dumont was at the mercy of Hubert Herron in his own company. If he
lived he would be president only until the next annual meeting--less
than two months away; and the Herron crowd had won over enough of his
board of directors to make him meanwhile powerless where he had been
autocrat.

XXV.

THE FALLEN KING.

Toward noon the next day Dumont emerged from the stupor into which
Doctor Sackett's opiate had plunged him. At once his mind began to
grope about for the broken clues of his business. His valet appeared.

"The morning papers," said Dumont.

"Yes, sir," replied the valet, and disappeared.

After a few seconds Culver came and halted just within the doorway.
"I'm sorry, sir, but Doctor Sackett left strict orders that you were to
be quiet. Your life depends on it."

Dumont scowled and his lower lip projected--the crowning touch in his
most imperious expression. "The papers, all of 'em,--quick!" he
commanded.

Culver took a last look at the blue-white face and bloodshot eyes to
give him courage to stand firm. "The doctor'll be here in a few
minutes," he said, bowed and went out.

Choking with impotent rage, Dumont rang for his valet and forced him to
help him dress. He was so weak when he finished that only his will
kept him from fainting. He took a stiff drink of the brandy--the odor
was sickening to him and he could hardly force it down. But once down,
it strengthened him.

"No, nothing to eat," he said thickly, and with slow but fairly steady
step left his room and descended to the library. Culver was there--sat
agape at sight of his master. "But you--you must not--" he began.

Dumont gave him an ugly grin. "But I will!" he said, and again drank
brandy. He turned and went out and toward the front door, Culver
following with stammering protests which he heeded not at all. On the
sidewalk he hailed a passing hansom. "To the Edison Building," he said
and drove off, Culver, bareheaded a