“Sure, so far.” Miss Ferguson frowned. “It’s getting involved, though. The salient fact is the human equation—Dickover wants to smash Henderson first, then develop the mine!” “Exactly. He knows that Henderson is loaded to the guards with the stock and is taking all that’s offered.” “Then why does Dickover threaten to throw all _his_ stock on the market? How would that smash anybody? Henderson could simply buy it up, control the mine, and develop it by means of the new chemical process!” Bowen leaned back in his chair and puffed for a moment. “Right there is where I had to make another quick guess, Miss Ferguson. But I think I’m right. I _know_ I’m right! From what I remember of the Apex Crown affair, a fair quantity of stock was issued in the early days; close to half a million, I believe. We can verify the figures this afternoon. With Henderson and Dickover scrapping over a mere block of ten thousand shares, you see they have absorbed about all of that stock that was lying around loose. Call it about two hundred thousand shares or more to each of them. “Now, when Dickover issued his Apex Crown ultimatum, I thought about what I’d do if I were in his place and with his power; and upon that it flashed over me exactly what _he_ would do—the only thing he logically could do, upon such a threat as his! Remember that Dickover knows human nature and gambles on it; remember, also, he has agents or brokers in every large city in the country, and can strike contemporaneously at a moment’s notice.” “All clear so far,” said the girl quietly. “And your prophecy—” “Is this: By to-day the stock is probably up to ten cents or more, and none offered. Dickover to-day issues orders to throw overboard the stock, beginning to-morrow morning; to throw overboard in such big blocks that Henderson will know where it’s coming from. He’ll hammer down the market, hammer it down until the stock is back to two cents or less. “And what happens? Will Henderson buy everything in sight? No. He won’t have the money or the nerve. He’s a traitor, remember, and a traitor has a yellow spot somewhere. Henderson will think that the Apex Crown ore has proven unfit for going through the new chemical process; or he may think that Dickover has put some string on the property that makes the stock worthless; he may think any of a dozen things, and he _will_. He’ll think all of ’em! Instead of finding himself grown rich by a sneaky, slick trick, he’ll find Dickover fighting him—and his nerve will go.” “Possibly,” agreed the girl, watching Bowen with fascinated eyes. “But it’s a poor thing to bet on, isn’t it? What’s the rest of the prophecy?”