From time to time, when the little financier would ask Rock how he was progressing, the clerk would tell him he was doing as well as could be expected. He also told Mr. Greener that the trust companies had given only 14,000 shares, and he said nothing whatever of the 7,100 shares he had secured from the friendly brokers. It was a desperate risk, this concealing from Mr. Greener how well he had done; but the clerk was bold. The moment Rock became convinced that there were no more pro-Greener proxies to be had by hook or crook, he began his attack on the enemy. His problem was to capture the anti-Greener votes—or stock. He proceeded to put his plan into effect. And the plan of this healthy clerk with the unflinching eyes and the resolute chin was worthy of the sallow-faced little man with the furtive look and the great forehead. “It is a case of _heads I win; tails you lose_,” Rock muttered to himself, exultingly. The young man presented himself forthwith at the office of Weddell, Hopkins & Co., prominent bankers and bitter enemies of Mr. John F. Greener and his methods. They knew Rock as one of the confidential clerks of Brown & Greener, and he had no difficulty in securing an audience from Mr. Weddell. “Good-morning, Mr. Weddell.” “Good-morning, sir,” said the banker, coldly. “I must say I’m somewhat surprised at the presumption of your people in sending you to me.” “Mr. Weddell,” said Rock, a trifle too eagerly to be artistic, “I’ve left the firm of Brown & Greener. They were,” he added, youthfully, “too rascally for me.” Mr. Weddell’s face froze solid. He feared an application for a position. “Ye-es?” he said. His voice matched his face in frigidity. “Mr. Weddell,” said the young clerk, looking straight into the old banker’s eyes, “you in common with other honest men have been wishing you could prevent Mr. Greener from wrecking the Iowa Midland. Now, Mr. Weddell,” he went on, eagerly, as the enthusiasm of the plan grew upon him, “I know all about Mr. Greener’s plans and resources and I want you to help me fight him. If you do we will win, sure.” “How will you go about it?” asked the old banker, evasively. He was not certain this was not some trick of the versatile Mr. John F. Greener. “Mr. Greener,” answered young Rock, “has not control of the property. He has only 110,600 shares. I had access to the books, and I know to a share.” “I don’t wish you to betray an employer’s secrets, even though he may be my enemy. I do not care to hear any more.” He was an old-fashioned banker, was Mr. Weddell.