“Yes, it is! So is the disappearance of W. H. Garrettson, one of the best-known men in America, in broad daylight, in a crowded and very efficiently policed city thoroughfare.” “Yes; but a failure--” “When the Baring Brothers failed Englishmen the world over wouldn't believe it. They couldn't fail, you know!” “Do you think--” “No, I do not. I was merely objecting to the habit of loose assertions so characteristic of Wall Street. I told you to what two things I ascribed the sharpness of the break. Mystery is the greatest of all bull cards, as you all know. It may also be made to work on the bear side. Now it isn't likely that anything serious has happened to Mr. W. H. Garrettson. There would be no sense in murdering him--not even by a stock speculator; but, even if he is dead, the break in the Garrettson specialties has by now discounted that sad contingency. Therefore I should say prices ought to be touching bottom; and what ought to be generally is, in the stock-market. I fancy we'll hear, one way or another, very soon now. If the news is good the price of Steel will rebound smartly. If it is bad we'll at least know what to look to, and with the elimination of the mystery there should be a cessation of the selling. There will follow a rush to cover and then--There you are! I believe it's begun already. Fifty-nine; and a half; sixty; sixty-two! Get 'em back!” The seventeen shorts in the room rushed to give their orders to cover and gloomily watched the massacre of the bears as melodramatized in figures on the quotation-board. Sixty-three! Sixty-five! Sixty-seven! Higher than it had been before the newspaper extras came out! Big blocks were changing hands. W. H. Garrettson & Co. were buying the stock aggressively, even recklessly now. Somebody must pay---and it wouldn't be the firm. Amos Kidder rushed into the office. “He's found!” he yelled, excitedly, addressing Mr. Robison. “Where was he?” asked Mr. Robison, very calmly. “At home--damn 'im!” “Why that, my boy?” “He won't talk--says he was in his library all the time.” “We know better than that. Don't we, Kidder?” said Robison, with a smile. “Yes; but you don't have to print the official statement as though it were the truth, and I have. How can I say he lied when I can't prove that he wasn't in his library? If I knew the whole truth--” “The whole truth?” echoed Mr. Robison, with the shade of a smile. “Don't you know it?” Amos Kidder shot this at Mr. Robison suspiciously. “Don't make me laugh, Kidder! Nobody knows the whole truth about anything. Take dinner with me to-morrow night--will you?” “Yes.” There was a smoldering defiance--it wasn't suspicion exactly--in the newspaper man's voice and eyes. “Good for you! Mr. Richards, please sell my Steel.” “Now that Garrettson is--” “Yes, now--at the market, carefully. Have I doubled my money in a week?” “Yes.” “I told you I would.” “An accident is not a fair test of--”