“Mr. Judson,” responded Claymore, “business is business, and the man who gets left in a trade is always sore. That’s all there is to it, and you mustn’t think anything more about it.” “Well,” said Mr. Judson, “I’ll try to think it’s all right, but if I should find that any wrong has been done, I shall insist on making things right with Low.” There was a sneering expression on Claymore’s face, but he said nothing, and they returned to the city. Mr. Judson found new trouble there. He met one of his old church members on the street and shook hands with him. “I didn’t know you were in this part of the country, Mr. Folsom,” said the clergyman. “I suppose not,” snapped Mr. Folsom, in reply, “and I presume you’d have liked it better if I had stayed away.” “Why! what do you mean?” “I came out here to look into the oil company I put my money in. That’s what I mean.” “Well——” “There isn’t any well. There ought to be several, but there isn’t one, and, what’s more, there won’t be any, and what’s more yet, you know it.” “Why! Brother Folsom——” “Don’t brother me! You’ve lent your name to a swindle, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. I can stand my loss, and it will teach me not to trust a minister again, but there are others, widows and orphans, who have put their all into your infernal scheme, and they can’t stand it. You’ve made them beggars just to fatten yourself.” The clergyman grew ghastly pale as he listened, and even Claymore, who was still with him, looked troubled. “This is dreadful!” gasped Mr. Judson. “I’d die if I believed it to be half true!” “Then you’d better die,” retorted Folsom. “That’s all I’ve got to say. I’ve looked at that wonderful land the company bought, and there isn’t enough oil in it to fill a lamp. Not a dollar that’s been put into it will ever be got out again. But you’ll be fairly well off with the money you’ve got from the widows and orphans—if you don’t get into jail for swindling.” With this Mr. Folsom strode away. “What does it mean?” asked Mr. Judson. “Sore head, that’s all,” responded Claymore. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about——” “But he seems to. Mr. Claymore, if I find that there has been any dishonest work in this business I shall expose it all, understand that. I shall die of the shame of it, but I will not commit suicide until I have seen that the really guilty parties are punished.” “Come, Mr. Judson, don’t talk of suicide. That’s foolish. You’re not used to business, that’s all.” “It is not all—ah! there’s Mr. Low’s wagon in front of that store. I am going to speak to him.” Claymore objected, but the minister was stubborn, and they went into the store. Low was there, and the clergyman asked him to call at the hotel to talk over matters. “I want to know all the facts,” said Mr. Judson. “Wal,” answered Low, slowly, “I’ve got some business to attend to, but ef ye’re in at half-past three I’ll be thar.” “I shall look for you at that hour.”