It was a great round they fought that day; but it is not so well remembered as those that succeeded it, because at half-past one the relative position of the combatants was just what it had been four hours earlier. With all the tremendous pounding given and taken that morning, nothing happened. Neither had faltered for an instant, and there was not the slightest foundation for a guess as to where the advantage lay. But to one who could know what was in the minds of the two men, it would be evident that Pickering had rather the better of the situation, for at closing time he was just where he expected to be--he was not disappointed. But Melville Sponley had not counted on an inconclusive day. The reinforcements he had looked for so confidently had failed to come up. Sponley spent the morning in his office, but he had lieutenants wherever they could possibly be of service, and he knew that the first unfavorable rumor that should be set afloat regarding Bagsbury’s bank would reach him instantly. But all the reports he received were negative. The clerk he had posted at the stock exchange called him up two or three times, but only to say that no Bagsbury stock had been offered for sale, and from Curtin at the bank there came not a word. When he had given Curtin his instructions the day before, he had been aware that it was hardly likely that the rumor of the bank’s difficulties would spread fast enough to develop a run on the bank before closing time on Monday; but he had counted confidently on its reaching the provision pit in time to have a decisive effect. The run, he calculated, would begin on Tuesday morning. But all Monday afternoon he heard never a whisper, and by evening he began to wonder if he had not made a serious mistake. Immediately after dinner he decided to learn what he could from Mr. Cartwright; but he hesitated whether he should call on him or telephone him. Mr. Cartwright, he knew, was as yet unreconciled to the telephone, and regarded a message over it much as many people regard a postal card, and yet the other course seemed still more inadvisable. If Sponley had called in person, he would, you remember, have found John Bagsbury there; but as it happened the telephone bell in Mr. Cartwright’s library rang only about six feet from the place where John was sitting. Mr. Cartwright answered it impatiently. “Oh, good evening, Mr. Sponley,” John heard him say. “Yes, we sold all our stock this afternoon--Yes, a very fair price--He was a young man whose name escapes me at this moment--Yes, thank you very much--Good evening.” And John, with some difficulty, kept a perfectly straight face. At the other end of the ’phone Sponley turned away with an exclamation of disgust. “What is it?” Harriet asked. “I’d rather deal with three rascals than with one fool,” he said shortly, “and that Cartwright’s an infernal fool.”