h need of secrecy. Nickleby had accepted the
suggestion at once as the solution of the mystery.

Ferguson was stupid. Even Nickleby--admirable as was his
smoothness--had fallen right into the clever trap prepared for him. If
Nickleby did discover the truth, Podmore could give him the laugh. Let
Friend Nickleby just start something and he'd find himself in several
varieties of hot soup before he knew it. For did not Little Hughey
know all about the crooked deal by which the worthy J. Cuthbert had
ousted old Nat Lawson from the presidency of the Interprovincial Loan &
Savings Company? He did! You bet he did! Let Nickleby interfere with
these pickings of Little Hughey and he would be shown a thing or two
that would cost him a lot more than a measly fifty thousand!

That had been a delicate touch--making Nickleby carry the key to the
satchel across to Ferguson's office. The key to satchel number two, it
was! Nickleby had been on hand throughout. Oh, they had nothing on
Hughey Podmore in this thing, absolutely noth----!

Podmore's cigarette teetered on his lower lip. With a sudden lunge he
grabbed for the tan satchel on the table. He went to the window and
threw up the shade. Slowly he turned the satchel around, examining it
minutely, his amazement growing. It was undoubtedly the same satchel
exactly, so far as he could see,--except for one little disparity.
There was no sign of the identification mark, no scratched triangle on
either end!

Thoroughly mystified, Podmore fished out the tiny key that belonged to
satchel number one. It would not fit!

With an oath he seized a hairbrush, smashed both lock and brush,
slipped the catches and yanked open the satchel. Inside lay a roll of
old newspapers, tied at the ends with dirty white string!

That was--ALL!

Hughey Podmore wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. For once he
was completely non-plussed. He sank back into the chair and lighted
another cigarette with a hand that shook ridiculously. For a very long
time he sat there, smoking cigarettes and staring blankly at the wall,
lighting each fresh one with the butt of its predecessor, end on end.

CHAPTER VII

CROSS CURRENTS

The retirement of Nathaniel Lawson from active participation in the
management of the Interprovincial Loan & Savings Company had come as a
complete surprise to his many acquaintances in commercial circles. For
while he was frequently spoken of as "Old Nat," it was