“Oh yes!” said Welles. He was thinking of the _Ruritania_. It did not even occur to him that this Monte Cristo might be worth while to pluck. “Thank you. I hope I didn't bother you. Good morning, Mr. Welles.” “Good morning, Mr. Jemingham. Er--come in any time you think I can be of service to you.” As Jemingham was leaving the president's office he almost bumped into the vice-president. “You've bought quite a lot of our stock,” said Stewardson, full of his errand. His voice had an accusing ring. “Yes. I was just speaking to Mr. Welles about it.” “And what did he say?” “Ask him!” teased Jerningham, with a smile, and went away. Stewardson felt it his duty to do exactly as Jerningham had mockingly suggested. It was an abnormal situation. That being the case, there was no regular provision--no indicated chapter and verse--for meeting it. The principal function of a chief in business is to supply answers to puzzled subordinates. Ashton Welles was sitting back in his swivel chair. He was staring fixedly at a hook on the picture-molding that had been left there after the picture was taken away. He was thinking that if he employed private detectives in London he would have to hire them by cable. There are suspicions a man cannot help having and yet cannot set down in plain black and white. He cannot hint when he writes, for written instructions must always be explicit and categorical. That is why no love-letter of which the real meaning is to be read “between the lines” is ever satisfactory to the recipient. Ashton Welles turned his head and, still frowning, asked Stewardson, sharply: “Well, what is it?” “It's about Jerningham. You know he has been buying our stock. But I thought you ought to know--” He wished to tell the president what a big block the Alaskan had already secured. But the president, from force of habit, perhaps, or possibly by reason of the irritation of his nerves, assumed the usual financial attitude of omniscience: “I know all about it,” he said. “Anything else you wish to say to me?” “No, sir!” answered Stewardson, who felt rebuffed and now would not have turned in an alarm of fire if he had seen the place beginning to burn. He was, after all, human. You cannot, in your lust for absolute power, make your subordinates into sublimated office-boys or decorative figureheads without paying the price some time. Stewardson was justified in assuming that Mr. Welles was worried about business--it was perfectly obvious; and it was a natural suspicion, also, that said deal must threaten destruction to the company since Ashton Welles was so eager to have poor Jerningham buy so much VanTwiller stock. Therefore Stewardson and his intimate friends, in order to be on the safe side, very promptly sold out their own holdings--to poor misguided Jerningham's brokers.