I joined Doddridge Knapp at the office and confided to him the fact that the cat was out of the bag. The King of the Street looked a little amused at the announcement. “Good Lord, Wilton! Where are your ears?” he said. “The Street had the whole story on Friday. Decker was sure of it on Wednesday. But I kept under cover long enough to get a good start, and that was as much as I expected.” “How do we stand now?” I asked. I knew that our purchases had not been progressing very well. “There's five hundred shares to get,” said the King of the Street thoughtfully; “five hundred and thirty-six, to be accurate.” “That's not a very promising outlook,” I suggested, remembering that we had secured only four hundred shares in the whole day's struggle. “Well, there'll be an earthquake in the Street if we don't get them, and maybe there'll be one if we do. Decker is likely to dump all his shares on the market the minute we win, and it will be the devil's own job to keep the bottom from falling out if he does.” The King of the Street then gave some brief directions. “Now,” he continued, “you are to be at the Exchange without fail, on Monday morning. I'll be there to give you your orders. Don't be one minute behind hand, or there may be Tophet to pay.” And he emphasized his words with an impressive growl that showed the Wolf's fangs. “I'll be on hand,” I replied. “Well, then, go,” he growled; “and see that you come with a clear head on Monday. Keep your thirst until after the game is over.” A few hours later I was at the house of the Wolf, but I forgot to ask for Doddridge Knapp. Luella received me with apparent indifference that contrasted sharply with her parting, and I was piqued. Mrs. Knapp was gracious, and sailed between us before I had received a dozen words. “Where are your spirits to-night?” she asked railingly. “Have you left them in lower Pine Street?” “I have a heart for any fate,” I returned lightly. “Am I too grave for the occasion?” “You're always under orders to be cheerful,” Luella broke in, “or at least to explain the reason why.” “He can't explain,” retorted her mother. “Mr. Knapp won't let him.” It struck me, on watching mother and daughter, that it was they who were grave. Luella gave an occasional flash of brightness, but seemed tired or depressed, while Mrs. Knapp appeared to struggle against some insistent sorrow. But presently we found a subject in which Luella roused her interest, and her bright mind and ready wit drove away the fancy that had first assailed me. Then some caller claimed the attention of Mrs. Knapp, and I was content to monopolize Luella's conversation for the evening. At last I was constrained to go. Mrs. Knapp was still busied in conversation with her visitor, and Luella followed me once more into the hall.