Entering the reception-room, he found Hartz and another prominent broker standing by one of the windows, talking in a low tone together. They did not notice him right away, and though the boy made no effort to listen to their conversation, of which he couldn’t hear much any way, a bit of valuable information came to him quite unexpectedly that set him thinking very hard as he marched inside to deliver his package to the capitalist in the private office. He had heard Hartz and the other broker talking about a certain stock which they were going to corner. They had called on the millionaire, expecting to interest him in the scheme with others whose names were written down on a list referred to by Hartz during his talk. Now, many boys wouldn’t have given the matter a second thought, or if they had, wouldn’t have had the gumption to consider how they might avail themselves of the knowledge that every broker in the district would have given his head, so to speak, to have an inkling of. But Jack Hazard was smarter than a steel trap. Corners and such things were familiar terms to him. He hadn’t burnt his fingers in the market as yet. He was a deal too cautious for that. But all the same, the fever had been working in his blood, and there was no telling when it would break out. He had his own idea about investing in stocks, and had figured the thing out until his brain sometimes got weary over the work. Practically he was standing on the brink, like a timid bather on the seashore, tempted by the sight of the water, but hesitating to make the first plunge. And now, like a sudden inspiration, he believed he saw his way to a good thing. And it was a good thing, if he only worked it right. And he thought he knew how to do it. “What are you thinking about?” asked Millie Price, noticing the preoccupied air of the boy after he returned from the capitalist’s office. “I was thinking how I could make a haul,” said Jack, with a grin of anticipation. “Not in stocks, I hope,” said Millie, with some concern, for she had little faith in Wall Street deals. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, Millie,” said Jack, tantalizingly. “Aren’t you just horrid!” she retorted, with a smile that showed the young messenger was a prime favorite of hers. “I hope not. That’s what you said about that dude that was in here yesterday. I hope you aren’t comparing me with him.” “The idea! Just as if I would!” she said, tossing her head. “Oh, by the way; who do you suppose was in here inquiring for you while you were out?” “Couldn’t guess, Millie, unless it was the Mayor, who is a particular friend of mine,” said Jack, with a grin. “What a ridiculous boy you are! It was Mr. Seymour Atherton.” “No; is that a fact?” said the boy, with evident interest. “I should like to have seen him.” “And he had your little mash with him, too,” said Millie, with a mischievous smile. “What’s that? What are you getting off?” “Don’t you really know who I mean?”