I was a little piqued at the staleness of my information. "Since you are so well-posted about the purchase of the rifles--" I began. "The alleged purchase of the rifles," interrupted Wharton Kendrick. "The purchase of the rifles," I repeated. "I suppose I don’t need to tell you where the money came from to pay for them." "Oh," said Wharton Kendrick carelessly, "it doesn’t take much money to get up a report." "Well, it took thirty thousand dollars for this one." "Pooh, Hampden, you’ve been dreaming. That crowd couldn’t raise thirty thousand cents." "Not alone, I grant you. But you will admit that it might be done with the assistance of a generous-hearted millionaire who has been convinced of the loftiness of their aims." "What the devil are you driving at, Hampden? Talk plain United States." Wharton Kendrick sat bolt upright, and looked at me sternly, with the light of half-comprehension in his eyes. "In plain language, then, Peter Bolton paid thirty thousand dollars into the treasury of the Council of Nine night before last, and the rifles have been bought with his money." Kendrick jumped to his feet. His ruddy face went pale, and then turned ruddier than ever. "Bolton!" he cried. "How do you know that?" I gave Clark’s account of the matter, recalled Bolton’s dealings with the Council, and clenched the conclusion with the corroborative testimony of my interview with Bolton in his office. Wharton Kendrick settled back in his chair and received my tale in a brown study. Before I had done, he interrupted me. "I see his game. This puts a different face on the matter. Come in here." And rising suddenly he seized me by the arm and marched me into the room from which he had come, with the authoritative air of a policeman haling a burglar to prison. The room to which I was introduced in this ignominious fashion was of moderate size, and the score or so of men who were gathered there filled it comfortably. I had noted in the company several of the leading financial men of the city, when Wharton Kendrick brought me to a halt before a tall, broad-shouldered, full-faced man, with a long gray mustache, kindly gray eyes, and a calm, resourceful expression. "Coleman, let me introduce my attorney, Mr. Hampden,"--I became suddenly grateful that he had presented me in this character--"son of Dick Hampden, you remember. He brings news that puts a different face on affairs."