He looked at me in surprise for an instant and then growled, still in good humor: “'No quarter' is the motto to-day.” And I listened closely as the King of the Street gave his orders for the morning. I marveled at the openness and confidence with which he seemed to treat me. There was no trace nor suggestion in his demeanor to-day of the man who sought my life by night. And I shuddered at the power of the Black Smoke to change the nature of this man to that of a demon. He trusted me with secrets of his campaign that were worth millions to the market. “You understand now,” he said at the end of his orders, “that you are to sell all the Crown Diamond that the market will take, and buy all the Omega that you can get below one hundred.” “I understand.” “We'll feed Decker about as big a dose as he can swallow, I reckon,” said the King of the Street grimly. “One thing,” I said, “I'd like to know if I'm the only one operating for you.” The King of the Street drew his bushy brows down over his eyes and scowled at me a moment. “You're the only one in the big Board,” he said at last. “There are men in the other Boards, you understand.” I thought I understood, and sallied forth for the battle. At Doddridge Knapp's suggestion I arranged to do my business through three brokers, and added Lattimer and Hobart to Wallbridge, and Bockstein and Eppner. Bockstein greeted me affably: “Velgome to de marget vonce more, Mr.--, Mr.--” “Wilton,” said Eppner, assisting his partner in his high, dry voice, with cold civility. His blue-black eyes regarded me as but a necessary part of the machinery of commerce. I gave my orders briefly. “Dot is a larch order,” said Bockstein dubiously. “You don't have to take it,” I was about to retort, when Eppner's high-pitched voice interrupted: “It's all right. The customary margin is enough.” Wallbridge was more enthusiastic. “You've come just in the nick of time,” said the stout little man, swabbing his bald head from force of habit, though the morning was chill. “The market has been drier than a fish-horn and duller than a foggy morning. You saved me from a trip to Los Angeles. I should have been carried off by my wife in another day.” “You have got Gradgrind's idea of a holiday,” I laughed. “Gradgrind, Gradgrind?” said the little man reflectively. “Don't know him. He's not in the market, I reckon. Oh, I'm death on holidays! I come near dying every day the Board doesn't meet. When it shut up shop after the Bank of California went to the wall, I was just getting ready to blow my brains out for want of exercise, when they posted the notice that it was to open again.” I laughed at the stout broker's earnestness, and told him what I wanted done. “Whew!” he exclaimed, “you're in business this time, sure. Well, this is just in my line.” Lattimer and Hobart, after a polite explanation of their rules in regard to margins, and getting a certified check, became obsequiously anxious to do my bidding.