"I'll tell you something they're not doing," said Bones. "They're not
buying Mazeppa shares."
There were two very deeply troubled people in the office of Tibbetts
and Hamilton. One was Hamilton himself, and the other was Miss
Marguerite Whitland. Hamilton had two causes for worry. The first and
the least was the strange extravagance of Bones. The second--and this
was more serious--was the prospect of breaking to Sanders that night
that he had been swindled, for swindled he undoubtedly was. Hamilton
had spent a feverish hour canvassing City opinion on the Mazeppa
Trading Company, and the report he had had was not encouraging. He
had, much against his will, carried out the instructions of Bones, and
had purchased in the open market ten thousand shares in the Company--a
transaction duly noted by Mr. de Vinne and his interested partner.
"He is biting," said that exultant man over the 'phone. "All we have
to do is to sit steady, and he'll swallow the hook!"
It was impossible that Marguerite Whitland should not know the extent
of her employer's commitments. She was a shrewd girl, and had acquired
a very fair working knowledge of City affairs during the period of her
employment. She had, too, an instinct for a swindle, and she was
panic-stricken at the thought that Bones was marching headlong to
financial disaster. Hamilton had gone home to his disagreeable task,
when the girl came from her office and stood, her hands clasped behind
her, before the desk of the senior partner.
Bones peered up in his short-sighted way.
"Well, young miss?" he said quietly.
"Mr. Tibbetts," she began a little unsteadily, "I'm going to be very
impertinent."
"Not at all," murmured Bones.
"I've been with you for some time now," said the girl, speaking
rapidly, "and I feel that I have a better right to talk to you
than--than----"
"Than anybody in the whole wide world," said Bones, "and that's a fact,
dear young Marguerite."
"Yes, yes," she said hurriedly, "but this is something about business,
and about--about this deal which you're going into. I've been talking
to Captain Hamilton this afternoon, while you were out, and I know it's
a swindle."
"I know that, too," said Bones calmly.
"But," said the puzzled girl, "you are putting all your money into it.
Mr. Hamilton said that, if this failed, you might be ruined."
Bones nodded. Outwardly calm, the light of battle shone in his eye.
"It's a gamble, dear young typewriter," he said, "a terrific gamble,
but it's going to turn out all right for did Bones."
"But Mr. Hamilton said you can't possibly make anything from the
property--that it is derelict and worth practically nothing. Only a
tenth of the stores are open, and the trading is----"
Bones smiled.
"I'm not gambling on the property," he said softly. "Oh, dear, no,
young fiancée, I'm not gambling on the property."