Another week saw Dick so improved in skill that the chauffeur declared he need have no hesitation in taking the car on any trip. Then a license having been procured, and the tanks refilled, Dick and his chums started on the trip to Hamilton Corners. It was accomplished without accident, an early morning start enabling them to arrive shortly before dark. As they drove into the side entrance of Dick's house a voice called from the library: "What's this, Mortimer? It looks like a railroad coach coming in." "Uncle Ezra's here!" exclaimed the son of the house as he recognized the tones. "I expect that is Dick's new touring car," replied Mr. Hamilton. "Mortimer! You don't mean to say you let your son get an expensive auto like that?" "I gave it to him, yes, Ezra," the boys heard Mr. Hamilton reply. "Well, of all the sinful, foolish wasting of money, this is the worst! Why, such a car as that must have cost nigh onto a thousand dollars!" "If he only knew!" murmured Dick, with a chuckle. "Come on in, fellows. You'll stay with me a few days, and then we'll arrange about our trip." "Well, Nephew Richard, I see you haven't learned economy yet," rasped Uncle Ezra, as our hero entered the library with his chums. "Where do you expect to end your days?" "I hope I don't have to think of that so soon, Uncle Ezra," replied Dick. "I guess you know my two chums; don't you?" "Um! Is that dog in here?" the crabbed man asked quickly, as a low growl sounded from under a chair near the door. "Send him out at once, or I shall go." "Take Grit away, Gibbs," Dick said to the butler. "He and Uncle Ezra seem to get on each other's nerves," he added in a low voice. Dick briefly related the incidents of his trip, and thanked his father for the generous gift of the car. Then, as the young men were rather dusty and tired from their journey, they went to their rooms to dress for dinner, which would soon be served. Dick was ready first, and going downstairs he heard his father and uncle talking in the library. As he went toward the handsome room, intending to join them, he heard Mr. Hamilton remark: "So you got possession of all his securities, Ezra?" "Every one, Mortimer. I cleaned young Wardell out from head to foot, and it was all his own fault. He put up the stock as collateral for a loan. I supplied the money, and when the time came to pay me back he couldn't--he didn't have the cash." "Because he bought some other stock that you controlled, and you so manipulated that market that the latter stock was worthless; wasn't that it, Ezra?" and Mr. Hamilton spoke coldly. "Well, Mortimer, I didn't do nothin' unlawful; did I? I only did what other folks do every day. I had a right to swing my own market the way I liked; didn't I?" "I suppose so" "And if this Wardell didn't know enough to protect himself, that wasn't my fault; was it?" "Perhaps not." "He ought to have more sense." "Perhaps. Still I feel sorry for him."