In the alarmingly inexplicable frame of mind in which Ashton Welles was Stewardson did not feel like speaking to his superior about Jemingham's investment. There was no reason why the Klondiker should not buy all the VanTwiller Trust Company stock he could pay for; but a day or two afterward the vice-president learned that Jerningham had secured control, by purchase outright or by option, at prices ranging from three hundred and ninety-five to five hundred dollars a share, of twenty-two thousand shares. That was important for two reasons: In the first place it was more than Jerningham could pay for even if he sold all his gold-dust; and, secondly, such a block in unfriendly hands might work injury to the controlling clique. He decided to see the president; but he was told that Mr. Ashton Welles was engaged at that moment. Jerningham was talking to him. They had exchanged greetings with much cordiality. “Have you heard from Mrs. Welles?” asked the Alaskan. “She hasn't arrived yet--” “I know it. But I received a wireless from young Wolfe--” “What did he say?” asked Ashton Welles before he knew it. Jerningham looked mildly surprised. He answered: “It was a funny message. He asked me to go to his room and get his trunks, and send all his belongings to London, as he had decided to stay there indefinitely.” “Yes?” It was all Welles could say. “So I wired back, 'Are you crazy?'” “Did he answer that?” “Yes.” Jerningham paused. Then he laughed. “What did he answer?” queried Welles. “Oh, he is crazy, all right. He answered, 'Yes--with joy! Please send trunks to Thornton's Hotel--'” “What?” Ashton Welles rose to his feet, his face livid. It was the London hotel where Mrs. Deering lived, the hotel to which Mrs. Welles was going! “What's the matter?” asked Jerningham, in amazement. “N-nothing!” said Ashton Welles, huskily. He gulped twice. Then, having spent thirty-five years in Wall Street making money, he explained, “I've got a terrible toothache!” And he put his hand to his left cheek. “I'm sorry!” said Jemingham so sympathetically that Welles, for all his distress--and nothing is so inherently selfish as suffering--felt a kindly feeling toward the man from Alaska. “Could I ask your advice about a business matter?” “Certainly!” Ashton Welles tried to smile. It was ghastly, but Jemingham did not remark it. He said, placidly: “I've bought quite a little bunch of VanTwiller stock because you are its president, Mr. Welles. On my honor, that is my only reason. I've paid good prices, too; but you are worth it--to me!” And Jemingham beamed adoringly on the efficient president of the VanTwiller Trust Company. Ashton Welles said, “Thank you!” and even tried to feel grateful to this queer character from the frozen North who was so naïve in his admiration--and envied him for not having a young wife who had sailed on the same steamer with an exceedingly attractive young man. “I guess I'm all right in my purchase--what?”