“You have made a nice mess of this business, Greer,” were the first words the eavesdropper heard, and they were uttered by the broker. “Why, my dear, Tom,” replied Elmer, “old Field hasn’t turned up yet.” “But he has,” said the other; “read that ‘extra.’” “It is impossible.” Greer took the paper from the broker’s hand. The article was headed “The Lost Millionaire Found.” And it went on to describe the finding of the corpse of the missing banker floating in the East River. Here is an extract: “Although the face was so battered that recognition would have been next to impossible, there were no doubts as to the identity of the body. The clothing was the same as that worn by the deceased, and his watch, money, diamond studs and a ring containing a portrait of his dead wife had not been removed. It is generally believed that Mr. Field had been murdered, but the object of the assassin or assassins was clearly not robbery. The police have not a clew to work on.” “The devil they haven’t!” muttered the listener. “How will that affect you?” asked Greer, eying the broker very closely. “That will send the stocks he was interested in still lower. You ought to clear a million.” “I see through the game now,” thought Nick Carter. For once the shrewd thief taker was in a measure at fault; he did not see through the game yet, by any means. “What is the stock selling at now?” continued Greer. “It’s down to thirteen.” “What was it a week ago?” “Ninety-two,” replied the broker. “You must have made a heap of money,” said Elmer, “and I have had but a thousand dollars from you.” “There are twenty thousand waiting for you, whenever you choose to call.” “Give me a check for it. I can easily get it cashed. You stand well in financial circles.” The man hesitated, but finally he filled out a check for the amount demanded and handed it to the other. “We are doing well, Elmer.” It was the young fellow who spoke. “This thing is getting hot,” Nick Carter whispered to himself; “my fine young gentleman seems to be a lady in disguise. I must have that check and also my friend’s next door.” “It will be a month before the stock will go up again,” said the broker, “and I can’t carry any considerable amount of it for a long time. The death of Hilton Field will send it below thirteen. I don’t care for the money so much.” “What then?” “It may be discovered I had a hand in this infernal business and then----” “And then?” repeated Greer. “State’s prison!” The thought sent a cold chill down this highly respectable gentleman’s back. Elmer placed his hands to his sides and laughed heartily, in which he was joined by his young companion, who was, as the reader must have guessed, Louise Calhoun. “It is not a subject for mirth,” said the broker. “That’s where you make a mistake,” said Greer. “I helped to dress that corpse found floating in the river myself.” “Then Field is alive?” “He was this morning.”