"Well, we've had high-sounding talk put up to us about long enough," commented Ackerman, at length. "I was one of the first to go in for this, and I believe in it yet, but I don't want this thing with Rawn in control. Why, look at him,--he was just a clerk when he came to us, and here he's putting on more side than any other man in the town. He's taken advantage of his situation to play the market in and out, all the time, which he couldn't have done if it hadn't been for friends like us. He squeezed us into backing him--after we gave him that first little flyer in Rubber, and some Oil--that hadn't cost us anything and didn't look worth anything. In return he's handed us promises and explanations and hot air, and nothing else. I've just got an idea that there's a man-sized nigger somewhere around this woodpile. For me, I prefer being hung as a little lamb rather than as a full-sized goat. Yes, I let go a little International--to Van--I'll admit. Time enough to get back into the game when we've put Rawn out!" Standley nodded slowly. "That's a good deal the way I felt about it," he said. "It riles me to see the airs that fellow puts on. I remember him when he didn't have two suits of hand-me-down clothes to his name, and now he seems to have a hundred, all done by the best tailors in New York. He used to tie his drawers with white tape strings, and now he wears specially shaped silks. Where'd he get it? You talk about the Keeley motor--this thing has got it beat a mile for mystery. And we fellows have been standing for that! That is, unless we can stand from under, somehow." "Yes, seemingly," ventured the last speaker. "But how is that somehow? There isn't any market for International." The gray-bearded man laughed jubilantly at this. "Have you found that out?" "Yes, I certainly have found it out. Of course, the market has been Van yonder. But he won't take on over a certain amount. He wants to break the control, of course. But he's going to wait until he gets up to the point and then do something quick. He's not going to hold our bag for us--oh, no! Not him!" "Well, I've a suspicion," said the older man finally, "that that secret we've been after has been in the hands of our superintendent for a long time." "Why didn't Rawn tell us, then?" demanded one of his companions. "Has he sold us out?" "No, Rawn hasn't sold us out. At least I don't think so." "Who has, then?" "I don't know. The young man who made the wheels go for us whenever Rawn wanted him to--he's the real key to this situation, if I'm a good guesser. There's your contraband, and you can locate him somewhere in this particular woodpile, or I'm no judge." "Rawn's pretty well spread out in the general market," quite irrelevantly suggested Standley. "I should say he was!" growled Ackerman. "He's been in on all the good things in the last two or three years. He must have made millions--I don't know how much."