Big Jim Long had called the Sword a “hound,” and thereafter Hardshell never spoke to him but passed him unseeing. At the bar one day Big Jim had noisily invited everyone to drink with him, and Hardshell had thrown away his beer and spat before walking away--and the open insult stung even Big Jim Long. All this was three years prior to the day when the affairs of the Long Investment Company reached their climax. In his New York offices, Kirtin realized that the finish was at hand. The bags filled with money had been removed from the safe in the luxurious offices of the Long Investment Company, carried through the door connecting them with the little office of Thos. J. Kirtin, Investments, and the door locked on both sides. Then Kirtin did the one decent thing of his career. He sent a code telegram to Long and to every agent of the company over the ganglia of leased wires, warning them that the jig was up and it was time to disappear. Probably it was not until he read that message that Big Jim Long understood the full significance of the situation. He never had stopped to ask himself why Kirtin had bestowed rank and titles upon him, why he had elected him president, and why all the ornate stationery and the many messages bore his name, or even why he had been paid five thousand dollars a week. Perhaps he thought he earned it by virtue of his influence among racing people. He understood now that he, Jim Long, would be held accountable to the law, that he would be fugitive or prisoner while Kirtin, with the millions of dollars looted from the public, could not be connected with the swindle and would be safe in Europe. He cursed Kirtin, and, strangely, not because Kirtin was a thief and worse. He cursed him because he considered Kirtin a fool. Had Kirtin followed his plan and advice, the scheme would have worked. With that almost unlimited capital behind him he could have fixed enough races and won enough money to pay the dividends. Long knew that within a day or two, three at the longest, the authorities would descend upon the company offices. With a sudden determination, Long sent a code order to every agent of the company to ignore Kirtin’s message and prepare for a killing. Let Kirtin go his cowardly way. He, Big Jim Long, would face the situation, pay the dividends, and handle the big money himself. He knew that at least a half million dollars remained in the hands of the agents of the company in different cities--the gleanings which Kirtin had not considered worth the risk to remain and collect. Long telegraphed, ordering the agents to hold all funds subject to his order instead of forwarding them to New York.