"Oh, those!" Mr. Tutt smiled inscrutably. "Mr. Barrows is not a physician," he corrected her, running his eye over the General Sessions calendar. "He's only a 'doc'--that is to say, one who doctors. You know you can doctor a lot of things besides the human anatomy. No, I guess they're not listed on the Stock Exchange or anywhere else." "Well, here's a schedule I made of them--Miss Sondheim typed it--and their total face value is seventeen million eight hundred thousand dollars. I tried to find out all I could, but none of the firms on Wall Street had ever heard of any of them--excepting of one that was traded in on the curb up to within a few weeks. There's Great Lakes and Canadian Southern Railway Company," she went on, "Chicago Water Front and Terminal Company, Great Geyser Texan Petroleum and Llano Estacado Land Company--dozens and dozens of them, and not one has an office or, so far as I can find out, any tangible existence--but the one I spoke of." "Which is this great exception?" queried Mr. Tutt absently as he searched through the _Law Journal_ for the case he was going to try that afternoon. "You said one of them had been dealt in on the curb? You astonish me!" "It's got a funny name," she answered. "It almost sounds as if they meant it for a joke--Horse's Neck Extension." "I guess they meant it for a joke all right--on the public," chuckled her employer. "How many shares are there?" "A hundred thousand," she answered. "Jumping Jehoshaphat!" ejaculated Mr. Tutt. "How on earth did old Doc manage to get hold of them?" "It sold for only ten cents a share!" replied Miss Wiggin. "That would mean ten thousand dollars--" "If Doc paid for it," supplemented Mr. Tutt. "Which he probably didn't. What's it selling for now?" "It isn't selling at all." Mr. Tutt pressed the button that summoned Willie. "When you haven't anything better to do," he said to her, "why don't you go round and see what has become of--of--Horse's Neck Extension?" "I will," assented Miss Wiggin. "It makes me feel rich just to talk about such things. I just love it." "Many a slick crook has taken advantage of just that kind of feeling," mused Mr. Tutt. "There are two things that women--particularly trained nurses--seem to like better than anything else in the world--babies and stock certificates." Then upon the arrival of the recalcitrant William he gathered up his papers and took down his hat from the tree. "I wish you'd let me get your hat ironed, Mr. Tutt," remarked Miss Wiggin. "It would cost you only fifty cents." "That's all you know about it, my dear," he answered. "More likely it would cost me a hundred thousand dollars." * * * * *