I had something of trepidation, after all, as I rang the bell, for I was far from being sure that Doddridge Knapp was above carrying out his desperate purposes in his own house, and I wondered whether I should ever come out again, once I was behind those massive doors. I had taken the precaution to find a smaller revolver, “suitable for an evening call,” as I assured myself, but it did not look to be much of a protection in case the house held a dozen ruffians of the Terrill brand. However, I must risk it. I gave my name to the servant who opened the door. “This way,” he said quietly. I had hardly time as I passed to note the large hall, the handsome staircase, and the wide parlors that hung rich with drapery, but in darkness. I was led beyond and behind them, and in a moment was ushered into a small, plainly-furnished room; and at a desk covered with papers sat Doddridge Knapp, the picture of the Wolf in his den. “Sit down, Wilton,” said he with grim affability, giving his hand. “You won't mind if an old man doesn't get up.” I made some conventional reply. “Sorry to disappoint you this afternoon, and take up your evening,” he said; “but I found some business that needed more immediate attention. There was a little matter that had to be looked after in person.” And the Wolf's fangs showed in a cruel smile, which assured me that the “little matter” had terminated unhappily for the other man. I airily professed myself happy to be at his service at any time. “Yes, yes,” he said; “but let's see your memoranda. Did you do well this afternoon?” “No-o,” I returned apologetically. “Not so well as I wished.” He took the papers and looked over them carefully. “Thirty-one hundred,” he said reflectively. “Those sales were all right. Well, I was afraid you couldn't get above three thousand. I didn't get more than two thousand in the other Boards and on the Street.” “That was the best I could do,” I said modestly. “They average at sixty-five. Omega got away from us this afternoon like a runaway horse.” “Yes, yes,” said the King of the Street, studying his papers with drawn brows. “That's all right. I'll have to wait a bit before going further.” I bowed as became one who had no idea of the plans ahead. “And now,” said Doddridge Knapp, turning on me a keen and lowering gaze, “I'd like to know what call you have to be spying on me?” I opened my eyes wide in wonder. “Spying? I don't understand.” “No?” said he, with something between a growl and a snarl. “Well, maybe you don't understand that, either!” And he tossed me a bit of paper. I felt sure that I did not. My ignorance grew into amazement as I read. The slip bore the words: “I have bought Crown Diamond. What's the limit? Wilton.” “I certainly don't understand,” I said. “What does it mean?” “The man who wrote it ought to know,” growled Doddridge Knapp, with his eyes flashing and the yellow-gray mustache standing out like bristles. The fangs of the Wolf were in sight.