The next moment Garraboy himself appeared at the rail, dapper, dried up, and severe. "How do you do?" he said sharply, but without inviting them in. "What can I do for you? It’s a very busy day for me." "I assure you I don’t intend to take any more time than I am compelled to," said Beecher stiffly, with an accent that gave another meaning to the phrase. He plunged his hand into his pocket. "I have an order for you." "Oh, yes, I remember now," said Garraboy, with a malicious drawing up of his lips. "You can save yourself the trouble." "What do you mean?" asked Beecher, greatly surprised. "You have an order on me to deliver certain stocks I hold for Miss Charters?" "I have." "Well, Miss Charters has changed her mind," said Garraboy, letting his glance rest on Beecher with the vacant, impudent stare of which he was master. "You have seen Miss Charters?" said Beecher, growing very angry. "I have; and when I explained to her that she had been unduly excited by some one who evidently is not aware that there are laws in civilized countries adequate to deal with those who attack the reputations or interests—" "Sir!" exclaimed Beecher, moving so quickly toward the rail that Garraboy hastily retreated. "When Miss Charters learned that, and likewise that she had parted with stocks worth considerably over twenty thousand dollars, she changed her mind very quickly." "Mr. Garraboy," said Gunther abruptly, "all this is not to the point. We have a formal order on you for certain stocks. Ted, present it." "True, I forgot," said Garraboy, and produced from his coat a letter, which he looked over with nonchalant delay and finally handed to Beecher. "I presume you are acting from altruistic motives and are not standing on technicalities. Here is a little note which Miss Charters requested me to give you." "That has nothing to do with it," said Gunther at once, for the personality of the broker aroused the pugnacious side of him. "Your transaction has been closed. Get your stocks." Beecher, frowning, unable to conceal the vexation that this unexpected check brought him, opened the letter. The address by its formality completed his irritation: DEAR MR. BEECHER: Mr. Garraboy has called and explained everything satisfactorily. I am afraid I was needlessly alarmed last night and did him an injustice. As he has shown me how advantageous it will be for me to transfer my holdings to other stocks, now far below their market value, I have decided not to lose the opportunity. Thank you just the same for your interest in this matter. I shall be in at five this afternoon and will explain to you more fully. Cordially yours, NAN CHARTERS. The two watched him read to the end, fold the letter carefully, and put it in his pocket. "Well?" said Garraboy. "Insist on the delivery, Ted," said Gunther militantly. "If Miss Charters wants to return them again, that’s her affair. The stocks are yours."