as he held her hand a moment,
her face was turned away. When the yacht rounded the point she was there
waving an adieu and remained there until lost from sight.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE MISER IN HIS DEN

The one point of pride in Nicholas Frye's nature was his absolute belief
in his own shrewdness. "They can't get the best of me," he would say to
himself when he had won an unusually knotty case, and winking one of his
cat-like eyes he would say, half aloud, "I'm shrewd, I'm shrewd as the
devil!" He knew he was both hated and feared by his fellow-members of
the bar, but it mattered not to him. Being hated he didn't mind, and
being feared flattered his vanity to an intense degree. When Uncle Terry
put himself in his power and, like a good-natured old sheep, stood to be
sheared, Frye only laughed at his client's stupidity and set out to
continue the robbery as long as possible. Messrs. Thygeson & Company, of
Stockholm, who had first employed him to hunt up an heir to the estate
of old Eric Peterson, whose son Neils and his young wife had been lost
on the coast of Maine, fared no better. To them he only stated that he
had found several promising clues and was following them as rapidly as
possible, but it all cost money, and would they kindly send a draft on
account for necessary expenses? etc., etc. To shear them as close as
possible and as long as he could before giving any return for their
money was part of his game. All were fish that came to his net, and all
were treated alike and robbed from start to finish. When Albert had
turned his back upon him, and, worse than that, taken away his best
client, as he afterwards learned, the old scoundrel suffered the worst
blow to his vanity he ever received. "Curse the fellow!" he would say to
himself. "I'll pay him and have revenge if I live long enough, and I'll
never rest till I do. No man ever got the best of me, and in the long
run no man ever shall!" Like an Indian he bided his time, though waiting
and watching with his merciless yellow eyes until the chance might come
when he could deal a ruinous blow.

But there is a Nemesis that follows evil-doers in this world, ready to
strike with an invisible hand all who are lost to the sense of right and
justice. In Frye's case the avenging goddess lurked in his inordinate
belief in his own shrewdness, coupled with a fatuous love of
speculation. A few lucky ventures at first in the stock market had
fanned the flame until he be