“I know, of course,” I answered, slowly, “what every one knows, that the California and Eastern has been, or is reported to have been, trying to get control of the L. and T. Its possession would give the California people the balance of power and mean the end of the present rate war with the Consolidated Pacific. The common stock has fluctuated between 30 and 50 for months and there have been all sorts of rumors. So much the newspapers have made common property. That is all I know.” “You did not know then that Father and his associates control the California and Eastern?” I leaned back in my chair. “No,” I said, “I did not know that. Then your father--” “Father tells me a great deal concerning his business affairs. I have been very much interested in this. It seems almost like a great war and as if Father were a general. He and his associates have gradually bought up the C. and E. until they practically own it. And they have been working to get the Louisville road. Last winter, you remember, there was a great excitement and the stock went up and then down again. That was when it looked as if the other side--the Consolidated Pacific--had beaten Father, but they had not. You remember that?” I remembered it. That is to say, George had told me of the rise and fall of the stock. It was then that he had bought. “Yes,” I said, “I remember something of it.” “If Father had stayed in New York he would have won before this. Oh,” with a burst of pride, “they can NEVER beat him when he is leading the fight himself! He has, through his brokers, been selling--what do they call it? Oh, yes, selling the Louisville stock 'short' ever since. I am not sure just what that means, but perhaps you know.” “I think I do,” I answered, thoughtfully. “He has been selling, quietly, so as to force the stock down, preparatory to buying in. I remember the papers have said that the C. and E. were reported as having lost interest in the Louisville. That was only a blind, I presume.” “Yes. Father never gives up, you know that. But he was very anxious that the Consolidated Pacific people should think he had. And now--now, when he is so ill--comes this! Mr. Davis telephoned that--Yes, what is it?” There had been a knock at the door. It opened and the butler appeared. “A telegram for Mr. Colton, Miss Mabel,” he said. “Give it to me. Tell the man to wait, Johnson. It is from Mr. Davis,” she exclaimed, turning to me. “I am sure it is. Yes. See!” She handed me the yellow telegram. I read the following aloud: “James W. Colton, “Denboro, Mass. “Galileo potato soap currency tomato deeds command army alcohol thief weather family--” “What on earth--!” I exclaimed. “That is in the code, Father's private code. Don't you see? The code book is here somewhere. I must find it.” She was rummaging in the drawer of the desk. With a sigh of relief she produced a little blue leather-covered book.