nd N. Smelters?" he asked.

"Down seven points."

"S. F. and D.?"

"Eight points off."

Santoine's hand, holding the telephone, shook in its agitation; his
head was hot from the blood rushing through it, his body was chilled.
An idea so strange, so astounding, so incredible as it first had come
to him that his feelings refused it though his reason told him it was
the only possible condition which could account for all the facts, now
was being made all but certain. He named stock after stock; all were
down--seriously depressed or had been supported only by a desperate
effort of their chief holders.

"A. L. & M. is down too," the broker volunteered.

"That is only sympathetic," Santoine replied.

He hung up. His hand, straining to control its agitation, reached for
the bell; he rang; a servant came.

"Get me note-paper," Santoine commanded.

The servant went out and returned with paper. The nurse had followed
him in; she turned the leaf of the bed-table for Santoine to write.
The blind man could write as well as any other by following the
position of the lines with the fingers of his left hand. He wrote a
short note swiftly now, folded, sealed and addressed it and handed it
to the servant.

"Have that delivered by a messenger at once," he directed. "There will
be no written answer, I think; only something sent back--a photograph.
See that it is brought to me at once."

He heard the servant's footsteps going rapidly away. He was shaking
with anger, horror, resentment; he was almost--not quite--sure now of
all that had taken place; of why Warden had been murdered, of what
vague shape had moved behind and guided all that had happened since.
He recalled Eaton's voice as he had heard it first on the train at
Seattle; and now he was almost sure--not quite--that he could place
that voice, that he knew where he had heard it before.

He lay with clenched hands, shaking with rage; then by effort of his
will he put these thoughts away. The nurse reminded him again of his
need for food.

"I want nothing now," he said. "Have it ready when I wake up. When
the doctor comes, tell him I am going to get up to-day and dress."

He turned and stretched himself upon his bed; so, finally, he slept.

CHAPTER XXII

THE MAN HUNT

The rolling, ravine-gullied land where Harriet had left Eaton was
wooded thickly with oaks, maples and ash; the ground between these
trees was clear of undergrowth upon the higher par