then nine-thirty. It was almost time for the
stock market to open. My thoughts, which had been diverted from my rash
plunge into the intricacies of high finance, began to return to it. As
ten o'clock drew near, I began to realize what I had bade Davis do, and
to think what might happen because of it. I, Roscoe Paine, no longer
even a country banker, was at the helm of "Big Jim" Colton's bark in the
maelstrom of the stock market. It would have been funny if it had not
been so desperate. And desperate it was, sheer reckless desperation and
nothing else. I must have been crazier than ever, more wildly insane
than I had been for the past month, to even think of such a thing. It
was not too late yet, I could telegraph Davis--

The telephone on the desk--not the public, the local, 'phone, but
the other, Colton's private wire to New York--rang. I picked up the
receiver.

"Hello-o! Hello-o!" a faint voice was calling. "Is this Colton's house
at Denboro? . . . Yes, this is Davis. . . . The wire is all right now.
. . . Is this Mr. Colton speaking?"

"No," I answered, "Mr. Colton is here in the house. You may give the
message to me."

"I want to know if his orders hold. Am I to buy? Ask him. I will wait.
Hurry! The market opens in five minutes."

I put down the receiver. Now was my opportunity. I could back out now.
Five minutes more and it would be too late. But if I did back out--what?

One of the minutes passed. Then another. I seized the telephone.

"Go ahead!" I shouted. "Carry out your orders."

A faint "All right" answered me.

The die was cast. I was in for it. There was nothing to do but wait.

And I waited alone. I walked up and down the floor of the little room,
looking at the clock and wondering what was happening on that crowded
floor of the big Broad Street building. The market was open. Davis was
buying as I had directed. But at what figure was he buying?

No one came near me, not even the butler. It was ten-twenty before the
bell rang again.

"Hello! This is Mr. Davis's office. Is this Mr. Colton? Tell him Mr.
Davis says L. and T. is one hundred and fifty now and jumping twenty
points at a lick. There is the devil to pay. Scarcely any stock in sight
and next door to a panic. Shall we go on buying?"

I was trying to decide upon an answer when some one touched my elbow.
Miss Colton was standing beside me. She did not speak, but she looked
the question.

I told her what I had just heard.

"One hund