upon shears, but sometimes without the means of paying their
dues--who formed a little coterie of their own, and who valued and used
the club for what it brought them, their election carrying with it
a certain social recognition: it also widened one's circle of
acquaintances and, perhaps, of clients.

The sound of loud talking now struck upon Jack's ear. Something more
important than the angle of a parasol or the wearing of out-of-date
spats was engrossing the attention of a group of young men who had just
entered. Jack caught such expressions as--"Might as well have picked
his pocket...." "He's flat broke, anyhow...." "Got to sell his house, I
hear...."

Then came a voice louder than the others.

"There's Breen talking to Minott and Biffy. He's in the Street; he'll
know.... Say, Breen!"

Jack rose to his feet and met the speaker half way.

"What do you know, Breen, about that scoop in gold stock? Heard anything
about it? Who engineered it? Charley Gilbert's cleaned out, I hear."

"I don't know anything," said Jack. "I left the office at noon and came
up town. Who did you say was cleaned out?"

"Why, Charley Gilbert. You must know him."

"Yes, I know him. What's happened to him?"

"Flat broke--that's what happened to him. Got caught in that gold
swindle. The stock dropped out of sight this afternoon, I hear--went
down forty points."

Garry crowded his way into the group: "Which Mr. Gilbert?--not Charley
M., the--"

"Yes; Sam's just left him. What did he tell you, Sam?"

"Just what you've said--I hear, too, that he has got to stop on his
house out in Jersey. Can't finish it and can't pay for what's been
done."

Garry gave a low whistle and looked at Jack.

"That's rough. Mr. Morris drew the plan of Gilbert's house himself. I
worked on the details."

"Rough!" burst out the first speaker. "I should say it was--might as
well have burglared his safe. They have been working up this game for
months, so Charley told me. Then they gave out that the lode had petered
out and they threw it overboard and everybody with it. They said they
tried to find Charley to post him, but he was out of town."

"Who tried?" asked Jack, with renewed interest, edging his way close to
the group. It was just as well to know the sheep from the goats, if he
was to spend the remainder of his life in the Street.

"That's what we want to know. Thought you might have heard."

Jack shook his head and resumed his seat beside Biffy, who