Charlie said that he was, and Tamms departed, saying that he would be in again to-morrow. And Charlie went up to the Columbian Club, and read the following item in _The Evening Post_: “The late depression in Starbuck Oil securities is believed to have been caused by the fact that the property has failed to earn its fixed charges in the past six months. The selling has come largely from Deacon Remington, through Rawson, Lawson & Co.; and it is regarded as beyond question that the Company will default September 1st upon its mortgage bonds. The banking-house of Messrs. Townley & Tamms are said to have lost largely by the failure, as they hold the bulk of the Company’s stock.” “By Jove,” said Charlie to himself, “I ought to have telegraphed Flossie Gower, after all.” But then he re-read the article and began to reconsider it. Charlie was a young man addicted to much reconsideration. It was a very strange thing that a responsible newspaper should go out of its way to print an item like that--an item which might seriously injure the credit of a prominent banking-house. Why (for Charlie had studied law in his youth), it was almost libellous. Tamms had read the paper before leaving the office, and had not seemed particularly disturbed. “Does he want it to be supposed we lost money?--and certainly,” said Charlie to himself, “the Governor is a clever fellow.” The next day was the first of August, and Charlie had arranged to begin his summer vacation by going to Newport that afternoon. He was early at the office, but found Tamms there already, dictating to a couple of stenographers. He was tearing up little pieces of paper, crumpling them up into balls, and throwing them into one corner of the room. Now, this was a way he had when things were going to his liking; but Charlie did not venture to speak to him about the item in _The Evening Post_. Moreover, a copy of that journal lay open on his desk. “Shall I buy any more Allegheny, sir?” said Charlie. “How much more have we got?” “About eight thousand shares, so far--from 91 to five-eighths.” “Buy all you can up to 92 or so,” said Tamms, cheerfully. Suddenly, a still full-bodied, though rather senile voice was heard in the main office, asking for Mr. Tamms. Charlie started, and even Tamms sprang to his feet. And Charlie fancied that that gentleman’s face turned, if possible, a shade paler than its wont.