"No, sir," says Vincent. "He--he was waiting in the Arcade. I slipped out and handed him a copy of the motion--as carried. But not until after the full board had reversed it." "Oh!" says Old Hickory. "Gave your friend the double cross, as I believe you would state it?" "He wasn't a friend," protests Vincent. "It was Izzy Goldheimer, who used to work in the bond room before I came. He's with a Curb firm now and has been trying for months to work me for tips on Corrugated holdings. Promised me a percentage. But he was a welcher, and I knew it. So when I did give him a tip it--it was that kind." "Hm-m-m!" says Old Hickory, wrinklin' his bushy eyebrows. "Still, I fail to see just where you would have time to take advantage of such conditions." "I had put up my margins on G. L. T. the day before," explains Vincent. "Taking the short end, sir. If the dividend had gone through at first I would have 'phoned in to change my trade to a buying order before Izzy could get down with the news. As it didn't, I let it stand. Of course, I knew the market would break next morning and I closed out the deal for a 15-point gain." "Fairly clever manipulation," comments Old Hickory. "Then you cleared about----" "Fifteen hundred," says Vincent. "I could have made more by pyramiding, but I thought it best to pull out while I was sure." "What every plunger knows--but forgets," says Old Hickory. "And you still have a capital of three hundred for future operations, eh?" "I'm through, sir," says Vincent. '"I--I don't like lying to mother. Besides after next Monday I don't think Izzy will bother me for any more tips. I--I suppose I'm fired, sir?" "Eh?" says Old Hickory, scowlin' at him fierce. "Fired? No. Boys who have a dislike for lying to mother are too scarce. Besides, anyone who can beat a curb broker at his own game ought to be valuable to the Corrugated some day. Mr. Piddie, see that this young man is promoted as soon as there's an opening. And--er--I believe that is all, gentlemen." As me and Piddie trickle out into the general offices Piddie whispers awed: "Wonderful man, Mr. Ellins! Wonderful!" "How clever of you to find it out, Piddie," says I. "Did you get the hunch from Vincent's mother?" CHAPTER XIII THE MANTLE OF SANDY THE GREAT "Vincent," says I, as I blows in through the brass gate from lunch, "who's the poddy old party you got parked on the bench out in the anteroom?" "He's waiting to see Mr. Ellins," says Vincent. "This is his third try. Looks to me like some up-state stockholder who wants to know when Corrugated common will strike 110." "Well, that wouldn't be my guess exactly," says I. "What's the name?" "Dowd," says Vincent, reachin' for a card. "Matthew K" "Eh," says I. "Mesaba Matt. Dowd? Say, son, your guesser is way out of gear. You ought to get better posted on the Order of Who-Who's." "I'm sorry," says Vincent, pinkin' up in the ears. "Is--is he somebody in particular?"