class="normal">Gordon drew a deep breath of relief. "Good," he cried softly; "I didn't believe you could do it, Rose; and if you'd failed, we might just as well have given up the whole thing. It seemed like an awfully long chance, too. I don't see now how you pulled it off."

The girl made a little grimace. "It was not pleasant," she said. "Incidentally, the man is hopelessly vulgar and brutal. On the whole, I hope the information is worth all you think it is. The entire experience was a disagreeable one. In fact, it was disgusting."

Gordon seemed scarcely to heed what she was saying. "Yes," he said absently, "I imagine so," and then sat silent, lost in thought, unheeding the laughter, somewhat over loud, as new arrivals constantly added themselves to the noisy throng; not seeming to hear the hum of voices, now loud, now ceasing altogether, from the gaming room adjoining the café, whither the evening's play was now beginning to draw the crowd; undisturbed even by the young college boy who sat at the piano, dashing off ragtime with a brilliant touch. At length he looked up.

"Well, you've got us our start, anyway," he said; "that's sure. Without that, we were nowhere. Now, to get down to the details. I suppose he only talked generalities, or did he happen to let slip anything definite about prices?"

The girl smiled as she drew a tiny piece of paper from the palm of her glove and slowly unfolded it. "Not less than twenty-five cents," she read, and then paused. "I wrote it all out afterwards," she explained, "although I could have remembered it perfectly well. I knew you wanted it exact."

Gordon nodded impatiently. "Of course, of course," he said. "Never mind that. Go ahead with the figures. That's what I want now."

"Oh, very well," said the girl, somewhat piqued; "where was I? Oh, yes. Not less than twenty-five cents, and very likely twenty-six or higher. Some well-informed men even talk of thirty. The price will hold for two years, at least, and very likely for three. In fact, it is very doubtful if it ever goes below twenty cents again. Finally, there has been an agreement, not for publication, of course, between the Consolidated, the Octagon and Michigan, and the Wood-Kennedy interests. So, if a poor, friendless girl wanted a chance to make a few dollars in 'coppers,' why, it's possible that things might go off sharply the last two weeks in October on rumors of over-production and a hidden supply of the metal, and that's the time she might buy a few shares of some good producing mine, because about the first of November these rumors might be flatly contradicted, and there might begin the biggest bull market in 'coppers' the country has ever seen. There, does that suit you?"

Gordon's face betrayed no sign of emotion, but the smoldering gleam of excitement in his half-closed eyes had grown steadily as the girl read on, until, as she ended, he could scarcely repress an exclamation of mingled pleasure and astonishment.

"Rose," he cried, "you must be an enchantress to have got that out of him. We've got practically every card in the pack now. Why, good heavens, girl, the thing's a cinch. Properly played, what you've just told me means a fortune for us both."

The girl glanced at him shrewdly. "But for us to get it properly played," she said; "I take it that's where the rub comes."

Gordon nodded. "It comes right down to this," he answered; "in two months from now, at the latest, we've got to have at least a hundred thousand dollars. After that, everything's plain sailing. But getting the hundred thousand; there, as you say, is just where the rub comes."

"I suppose," queried the girl, "that between us we haven't the tenth part of that?"

Gordon shook his head. "We might have had it, and more too," he said, "if I'd only known a year ago what I know to-day; but I didn't, and instead of making a fortune, I came within an ace of bankruptcy instead. Well, there's no use in post mortems. We've got to get that money somehow. You remember the scheme I spoke of?"

The girl lowered her voice as she bent towards him. "Oh, Dick, not that," she murmured.

Gordon raised his eyebrows the veriest trifle. "I don't see why not," he rejoined. "I've been busy looking it up, and as far as I can see it looks first-rate. He's just the same as he ever was, and between the two, as I told you, we're sure to land him. Of course, what he'll do afterwards no one can tell, but I think we can count on his doing what's right, safe enough."

The girl wrinkled her pretty forehead. "I can't make myself like it, Dick," she answered. "It seems like taking so many chances. If there were just the two of us, I wouldn't mind so much, but right at the start we've got to get some one else—some older woman—and there's a risk right away. I can't think of any one I'd trust."

Gordon considered. "There must be some one," he said at last. "How about that Wilson woman?"

The girl shook her head. "Too stupid," she objected promptly.

"Wouldn't Helen Russell do it?"

"Not old enough. She isn't more than five years older than I am, and we'd have to go light on anything like make-up. There are risks enough anyway without adding one."

"Well," cried Gordon impatiently, "there must be some woman that can do it and will do it. You must be able to think of some one."

The girl reflected. "There's Annie Holton's mother," she said, half doubtfully, at last. "I think she'd do, but I don't like the risk of getting mixed up with Annie. She'd like nothing better than a chance to do me a bad turn, as you know, Dick."

Gordon frowned. Annie Holton's infatuation for him was such matter of common knowledge about Bradfield's that there was no use in making light of it, and the girl's rabid jealousy of Rose Ashton had been the occasion of many a prophecy as to what might happen some day if the occasion should serve.

"I don't know why that should make any difference," he said at last. "Mrs. Holton's a very clever woman, and she'd look the part remarkably well. Besides, getting at her doesn't mean telling Annie, especially as I don't believe from what I hear that there's much love lost between them nowadays. If it comes to that, it would be easy enough to get Annie away somewhere for a week. That's only a matter of detail, anyway. You'll find we can get some one. But the point is that we've got to try the scheme, whether you like it or not. I can't borrow what we want. Money's been tight as the devil for six months now, and I think I begin to see why. No, this looks to be the only chance, and I forgot to tell you one thing more that makes it a little better; I've just found out that he's engaged to be married."

The girl looked doubtful. "I don't know whether that makes it better or worse," she said at last. "Of course it makes a difference in one way. It would help a lot—afterwards; but—it might spoil the first part altogether."

Gordon laughed cynically. "You don't know Harry as well as I do," he quoted. "Getting engaged doesn't make a man grow wings all at once, especially a man that's led the life he has. Think of the inducement, too. No, I'll risk the first part for a certainty, and I guess the second is about as good, too."

Both were silent for a time. The noise from the adjoining room grew louder. Every table in the café was filled. The piano tinkled unceasingly. Still they sat unheeding. Finally the girl leaned forward, speaking with deliberation.

"Dick," she said, "I'll grant that it isn't impossible. We might pull it off all right, and the whole scheme really does you credit. But you've got to own up to the risk. It's one of