ant trust
his unwelcome companion. Alcatrante would cling to him like an Old Man of
the Sea, awaiting the opportunity to get the better of him. Every wile
would be employed; but publicity was no part of the game--Orme began
really to believe that.

To shake off Alcatrante, perhaps there was no better way than to lure him
to some deserted place and overpower him. But would not Alcatrante be
likely to have anticipated such a move? And would he not resort to
desperate measures of his own before Orme could put his own plans into
practice? Bixby might help.

Orme walked over to the inquiry-window. "I want to see Mr. Bixby," he
said, offering his card.

The young woman behind the window took the card, but at the same time she
said: "Mr. Bixby left a few minutes ago. He won't be back to-day. Shall I
keep the card for him?"

"It doesn't matter, thank you," he said, turning away. Luck was against
him. Besides Bixby no one in that office knew him.

Alcatrante smiled genially. "Since Mr. Bixby is absent," he remarked,
"shall we leave the verification of the notes until to-morrow?"

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Orme.

"Why"--Alcatrante's face was the picture of astonishment--"the Wallingham
Company notes, of course. The notes you wish to sell me." His voice was
raised so that the girl behind the window could not help hearing.

"Rot!" said Orme.

"What?" A note of indignation crept into Alcatrante's voice. "Are you
evading? Perhaps you thought I would not insist on the verification."
Another clerk, a man, had joined the girl behind the window. Alcatrante
suddenly addressed him. "This Mr. Orme told me that he needed to raise
money and would transfer to me cheap some notes signed by your company. I
met him at the hotel. He said that, if I would come here with him, he
would show the notes and have them verified. I don't understand."

The clerk left the window and, opening a door, came into the
reception-room. "What are the notes you have?" he asked.

"I have none," replied Orme, in disgust. "I have never pretended to have
any. This man is crazy, I think." He pointed to Alcatrante. "He has
followed me here uninvited for reasons of his own. I asked for Mr. Bixby,
whom I know. I would have asked for Mr. Wallingham, my personal friend,
but that I had already learned of his being at Arradale."

"There's funny business here somewhere," exclaimed Alcatrante, with great
earnestness. "Do you mean to say that you did not