Two months previously, Dickover had received private information that a chemical process for treating zinc-silver ore economically was being perfected. He had at once sent Henderson on a private trip to pick up low-grade silver properties and form a gigantic combination; for as soon as news of the chemical process reached the market, low-grade silver would soar. Henderson had found from Cheadle that the Apex Crown was petering out. The vein had been worked to death, and there was no promise of picking up anything beyond. Whereupon Henderson had conceived a plan amazingly bold and clever, Cheadle being his accessory and abettor. Henderson had sent Dickover a glowing report on the Apex Crown. Cheadle had sent his stockholders news that a twenty-five-foot vein was opening up. Therefore Dickover had issued orders to add Apex Crown to his low-grade holdings. Henderson had quietly bought for himself. “So we now own some two hundred thousand shares,” went on the voice of Henderson. Bowen drank in every word. He felt a cold sweat trickling down his spine as he realized that Apex Crown was worthless. “Sure,” rejoined Cheadle. “But I don’t get this highbrow play with Dickover! Why bust things off with him?” “To make him hate me.” Henderson laughed silkily. “The day before Dickover came to town, I went to this Ferguson girl, made her a big offer for her stock, and then made her mad with some bullying. I figured she’d go to Dickover or some of his brokers for advice. Instead, she went to this boob, Bowen. You see? Bowen did the rest. He tipped off Dickover that I was crooked; Dickover fired me, hating me like hell! Now, Apex Crown was at nine and a half this morning—hello! There’s a report.” The telephone rang. “Sell?” rasped Henderson, a fighting edge to his voice. “Sell? You sell when I tell you to, and not before! No! You’ll not sell—till I give the order!” He slammed up the receiver and emitted an oath. “Charley says the stock is getting shot all to pieces! Some one is unloading in chunks from one to ten thousand—it’s down to seven here, and four at Los Angeles. That’s Dickover’s work. He’s cramming the market down—” “What!” From Cheadle broke a startled cry. “Then he’s discovered—” “Shut up!” snarled Henderson. “He’s discovered nothing, I tell you! He’s doing the very thing I’d expected him to do. Don’t you suppose I know Dickover from start to finish? D’you think I’ve been his confidential agent without knowing him like a book?” “Then why the hell is he unloading?” growled Cheadle. “To bust me. He thinks I’m trying to get hold of Apex Crown. He’s doing the very thing I knew he would do—I knew it from the day I met you first and got your report of the petering vein! He figures that because I double-crossed him I’ve got a yellow streak. He thinks that I want Apex Crown because I know about that chemical process. And what does he do? He—” Cheadle broke in with a coarse laugh. “Then he still thinks the ol’ mine is worth hanging on to?”