“The expert, gentlemen,” smiled the colonel, addressing the capitalists, “whom you sent to investigate my little property. A very painstaking person, and reliable to the last degree. McGlory is one of our original stockholders; a young man--a mere lad, in fact--but sharp as a steel trap.” The colonel lifted his voice. “Have them come right in, Mr. Griggs,” he called. Matt King and McGlory did not stand on the order. Supporting his chum by the arm, King and the cowboy passed into the conference room and stood under the astounded eyes of the colonel. “Why,” said Mr. Isidore Sleipnitz, one of the moneyed men, “dot ain’t der expert, Levitt. Neider of ’em is Levitt.” “But I’m McGlory,” said the cowboy, steadying himself by leaning against a table. Although his face was white, his eyes glowed with resolution and steadfast purpose. “Mr. Levitt was thrown from the automobile and injured. He’s now in a doctor’s office in Hempstead. This is my chum, Matt King. If he hadn’t picked me up I’d never have got here.” The colonel, to put it colloquially, “smelled a rat.” Something was wrong, and he knew it. “This meeting, gentlemen,” said he, “is not for outsiders. Mr. King is not a stockholder in the ‘Pauper’s Dream,’ nor, so far as I am informed, is he one of your syndicate. I think he had better withdraw.” “I’m not going to withdraw,” said Matt, “until I tell these gentlemen of your crooked transactions in the matter of the mine you are trying to sell them. McGlory and I have come here for that purpose, and----” “Silence!” roared the colonel, starting menacingly toward Matt. “Do you think, for a minute, you can blow in here and blacken my character in the eyes of these gentlemen?” Billings struck a pose, and shoved one hand into the breast of his long coat. “I am too well known,” he went on, “to suffer from the maunderings of a cub like you!” “I’d like to put in a few maunderings of my own, colonel,” said McGlory. “I’ll have to hurry, too, for I got badly shaken up in that accident that knocked out Levitt. There were two reports----” “Silence!” thundered the colonel. “Get out of here, McGlory! Clear out, I say, and take that other young scoundrel with you. If you don’t, I’ll call the police!” Hiram McCormick, another of the capitalists, got up from his chair and raised his hand. “This isn’t one of your Southwestern ‘rough-houses,’ colonel,” said he, “so please remember that. Roar less and listen more, will you? I am interested in hearing what these young men have to say.” “If that’s the way you stack up,” clamored the colonel, grabbing his slouch hat and his gold bullion from the table, “I’ll make myself absent. I didn’t come here to be insulted.” He started for the door. Before he could reach it the door of a telephone booth opened and a blue-coated man, with a star flashing on his breast, stepped in front of him.