Joe came into Martin’s by the Broadway entrance, at the heels of the two friends he had picked up for the occasion. On Saturday afternoons everybody who was anybody in New York desired to show themselves at Martin’s, and the café was crowded. Joe was aware, as he passed down the room, that many heads were turned to follow him. He knew that they were beginning to call him “the Boy Wonder of the Street” and his heart exulted. Already he had succeeded in getting his head well above the ruck of the town. He and his friends sat themselves down at a table against the back wall. The friends had their instructions. The three put their heads close together as if they had serious business to discuss, or some delightful plot to lay. Joe seemed not to see Cooper Gillett and his party who were seated at a larger table in the center of the room. In addition to Dodge, Gillett had with him Judge Keep, one of his attorneys; and Eddie Shriver, a young relative of his wife’s. Out of the tail of his eye, Joe perceived the eager resentment with which Gillett beheld _him_. He could almost hear the millionaire say: “There’s the damned kid now! He don’t appear to be worrying!” There was no occasion for Dodge to exercise any diplomacy; for Gillett immediately dispatched Shriver to Joe’s table. Shriver was a good-looking young fellow with a blond beard, who did everything he was told. “Mr. Gillett wants to speak to you,” he said to Joe. Joe started with pleased surprise. “Hello, Eddie!” Looking eagerly beyond him, he waved his hands to his friends at the center table. Many people in the place were looking at them. “Meet Mr. Cummings and Mr. Underwood . . . Mr. Shriver. I’ll be with you in five minutes, Eddie. There are one or two things I have to settle with these gentlemen before they hustle for their train.” Joe kept the multi-millionaire waiting a good quarter of an hour. Then, after bidding an ostentatious good-bye to his young friends, he strolled over. Joe found the atmosphere of Martin’s pleasantly stimulating. Before any of the quartet had a chance to speak, he said cheerfully: “That was a nice little rise we had just before the close of the market.” This diverted what Gillett was about to say. He looked disconcerted. Joe occupied himself with a cigarette. “I hope you all sold while the selling was good,” he remarked. “I’m already short forty thousand shares,” grumbled Gillett. “The shorter you are, the more money you’ll make,” said Joe. “How about Monday?” “She’ll rise a couple of points more. Sell every share you can find a buyer for! . . . It wasn’t such a bad move to hold off for awhile. You’ll have a better market, Monday, because of it.” An uncertain look came into Gillett’s red face. Joe caused his own face to look wooden. The stockbroker lowered his eyes. He could see that the current was already setting the other way. “How about that item on the news ticker to-day?” asked Judge Keep. “It was stated that our new machine, wouldn’t work.”