"I think I'll go out and get a paper, and see how my oil stock is getting along," he said. "Maybe it's advanced some more." Telling Mary, the maid, where he was going, and remarking that he would soon be back, Ned went out into the street. It was rather cold, but the sun was shining brightly and most of the snow had been cleared away. Ned got a paper and turned to the financial page. There, sure enough was the name, Mt. Olive Oil, and it was quoted at one dollar a share. Ned did not notice that it was in the column of "unlisted securities," together with other stock of corporations, some selling as low as ten cents a share. "I'm getting rich," Ned murmured to himself. "Guess I'll take another look at that certificate." He pulled it from his pocket, and, as he stood in the street reading it over he suddenly exclaimed: "They've made a mistake. It's only for one hundred shares instead of two hundred. I must go right down to the office and have it straightened out. It's probably a clerical error." Though he said this to himself, it was with a vague feeling of uneasiness that Ned boarded a car to go to the offices of Skem & Skim. It must be an error, he repeated to himself, over and over again. Still he remembered what his father had said about "fake" companies. But this one had seemed substantial, and their offices certainly indicated that they did a big business. Ned was deposited by the elevator in the corridor opposite the glittering offices of Skem & Skim. He observed a number of persons standing before the entrance door. "I tell you I will go in!" Ned heard one excited man exclaim. "They've got a thousand dollars of my money and I want it back." "Yes, and they've got five hundred of mine," another man chimed in. "I am sorry, gentlemen," replied a third voice. "But the offices are closed. No one can go in until after an investigation." "By whose orders are they closed?" asked the man who had mentioned the thousand dollars. "By the orders of the United States postal authorities," was the answer. "A fraud order has been issued against Skem & Skim, and there is a warrant for their arrest on a charge of using the mails to swindle. They skipped out just before we got here this morning." "Can't we get our money?" inquired half a dozen anxious ones. "I'm afraid not," was the reply from a small but determined looking man who stood before the door. "My assistant and I have charge of the offices. As soon as we can learn anything definite we will let you know." "Did they both get away?" asked some one of the postoffice inspector, for such the man in charge was. "Yes, both Skem and Skim." "Their names ought to be Scheme and Skin," said a man in a corner. "They skinned me out of three hundred dollars." "Any chance of getting 'em?" was the next inquiry of the inspector.