Half a dozen men were gathered in the private conference room of Random
& Griggs’ palatial brokerage offices in Liberty Street. One of these
half dozen was the colonel. Another was Joshua Griggs. The remaining
four were capitalists.
Colonel Mark Antony Billings was in his element. He had never looked
more impressive than he did then. Levitt and McGlory had failed to
arrive in time for the meeting, but they might come later. In any
event, their presence was not of supreme importance.
In front of the colonel, on the mahogany table, sparkled the two bars
of yellow bullion. They caught the gleams from the incandescent lights
and reflected luring rays into the eyes of the capitalists.
The capitalists seemed greatly impressed. Griggs--the brokerage firm
was to receive a very large commission if the mine was sold--wore a
broad and amiable smile. The colonel was plausible and full of tact,
answering questions promptly.
In the midst of the deliberations the quiet of Liberty Street was
disturbed by the sputter of an automobile. For the most part, Liberty
Street, in the vicinity of the brokers’ offices, was a deserted cañon
at that hour.
But if the automobile disturbed the quiet of the street, it did not
disturb the deliberations of those in Random & Griggs’ offices. It took
a rap on the outer door to do that. Mr. Griggs himself answered the
summons.
“McGlory and Levitt, colonel,” he called.
Mr. Griggs had made a slight mistake. Hearing the name McGlory, and
understanding that Levitt was expected with him, the broker had jumped
at conclusions.
“The expert, gentlemen,” smiled the colonel, addressing the
capitalists, “whom you sent to investigate my little property. A very
painstaking person, and reliable to the last degree. McGlory is one of
our original stockholders; a young man--a mere lad, in fact--but sharp
as a steel trap.” The colonel lifted his voice. “Have them come right
in, Mr. Griggs,” he called.
Matt King and McGlory did not stand on the order. Supporting his chum
by the arm, King and the cowboy passed into the conference room and
stood under the astounded eyes of the colonel.
“Why,” said Mr. Isidore Sleipnitz, one of the moneyed men, “dot ain’t
der expert, Levitt. Neider of ’em is Levitt.”
“But I’m McGlory,” said the cowboy, steadying himself by leaning
against a table. Although his face was white, his eyes glowed with
resolution and steadfast purpose. “Mr. Levitt was thrown from the
automobile and injured. He’s now in a doctor’s office in Hempstead.
This is my chum, Matt King. If he hadn’t picked me up I’d never have
got here.”
The colonel, to put it colloquially, “smelled a rat.” Something was
wrong, and he knew it.
“This meeting, gentlemen,” said he, “is not for outsiders. Mr. King
is not a stockholder in the ‘Pauper’s Dream,’ nor, so far as I am
informed, is he one of your syndicate. I think he had better withdraw.”
“I’m not going to withdraw,” said Matt, “until I tell these gentlemen
of your crooked transactions in the matter of the mine you are trying
to sell them. McGlory and I have come here for that purpose, and----”
“Silence!” roared the colonel, starting menacingly toward Matt. “Do you
think, for a minute, you can blow in here and blacken my character in
the eyes of these gentlemen?” Billings struck a pose, and shoved one
hand into the breast of his long coat. “I am too well known,” he went
on, “to suffer from the maunderings of a cub like you!”
“I’d like to put in a few maunderings of my own, colonel,” said
McGlory. “I’ll have to hurry, too, for I got badly shaken up in that
accident that knocked out Levitt. There were two reports----”
“Silence!” thundered the colonel. “Get out of here, McGlory! Clear out,
I say, and take that other young scoundrel with you. If you don’t, I’ll
call the police!”
Hiram McCormick, another of the capitalists, got up from his chair and
raised his hand.
“This isn’t one of your Southwestern ‘rough-houses,’ colonel,” said he,
“so please remember that. Roar less and listen more, will you? I am
interested in hearing what these young men have to say.”
“If that’s the way you stack up,” clamored the colonel, grabbing his
slouch hat and his gold bullion from the table, “I’ll make myself
absent. I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
He started for the door. Before he could reach it the door of a
telephone booth opened and a blue-coated man, with a star flashing on
his breast, stepped in front of him.
The appearance of the policeman was a surprise to the colonel, Griggs,
Matt, and McGlory. The four capitalists did not seem to think it
anything out of the ordinary.
“Where--where did that man come from?” inquired Griggs.
Inasmuch as he was a member of the firm that occupied the offices, it
might be supposed that he would have had knowledge of any policeman
secreted about the premises. But it was plain he had not been informed
of the presence of this particular officer.
Hiram McCormick was still on his feet. While the colonel was glaring
at the policeman, Mr. McCormick observed calmly:
“Mr. Griggs, we shall have to ask your pardon for the presence of the
officer. He slipped in, by my request, before the colonel came, and
while you were in the board room.”
“What’s he here for?” inquired Griggs.
“That will appear later. Just now he is going to keep the colonel with
us while these young men relieve their minds.”
Colonel Billings understood that he was face to face with disaster--a
disaster so comprehensive that he could not readily grasp it. Heeding a
motion of the officer’s hand, he dropped defiantly into a chair.
“Now, my lad,” said McCormick to the cowboy.
McGlory jumped at once into his recital. Beginning away back in his New
York experience, he told of the trouble he and Matt had had on account
of the bullion; then, after showing the telegram which had been sent
to him over the signature of “Joshua Griggs,” he began narrating the
adventures which had fallen to him and Matt on that eventful day. The
colonel’s double-dealing was shown up in all its ugly brazenness, and
the cowboy finished by regretting that he had not the private report of
Hannibal J. Levitt to offer in evidence.
“Perhaps,” suggested Matt, “the colonel can show it to you, if it has
not already been destroyed.”
“The colonel,” spoke up that gentleman witheringly, “is not here to be
bossed by a fellow of your stripe. Your wild and woolly stories seem to
have made a hit with the representatives of capital, but they’re fakes,
and everybody here will know they’re fakes, before many days.”
“Gentlemen,” put in Mr. Griggs, whose faith in the colonel was dying
hard, “is it right to take the word of these boys against a man so well
known throughout the Southwest as Colonel Billings?”
Colonel Billings waved his hand gently but firmly toward Mr. Griggs.
“Never mind me, sir,” said he. “The kid element seems to predominate
in the meeting, and men of experience and reason are relegated to the
background. Don’t disturb yourself on my account, I beg. There are
other bidders for the ‘Pauper’s Dream.’ The mine will be snapped up
before the week is over.”
“Mr. Griggs,” went on Hiram McCormick, “these young men have come
here--one of them with everything to lose and nothing to gain by
blocking the sale of the mine--and told us a most remarkable story
of guile and duplicity. I may say, however, that neither I nor my
associates are surprised. We have already had cause to suspect the
colonel of double-dealing. Two experts were sent by us to examine the
‘Pauper’s Dream.’ In matters of this sort, it is best not to place all
your faith in one man. Levitt went to the mine, made himself known to
the colonel, and examined the prospect under his supervision. Perhaps
it is not to be wondered at that the colonel bought him. But the second
expert reached the mine in laborer’s clothes, and was hired by the
colonel to ‘salt’ the breast of the ‘Pauper’s Dream’ tunnel. I have
that man’s report here in my pocket. It only arrived to-day, but my
friends of this projected syndicate have all read it. For this reason
we feared we might have trouble with the colonel, and so we smuggled
the policeman into the telephone booth.
“Colonel Billings,” and McCormick turned and leveled a hard look at
the Arizona man, “your rascally game would not have succeeded, even
had these lads not come here and told us of your knavery. We had you
spotted. From now on you will be blacklisted in this town, and you
will try in vain to float any other mining proposition on New York
capital. Mr. Griggs was deceived in you, and he and his partner have
our sympathy, and have not lost a particle of our good will; but as for
you, if you are not out of the city within twenty-four hours we shall
try and see just how much responsibility the law can put upon you for
this day’s events. There is the door; close it from the outside.”
The colonel got up. Calmly he drew a canvas bag from his pocket, and
deliberately placed his gold bars within it; then, holding the bag in
one hand, he allowed the other to dart toward his hip--a move young
King had seen before.
“Look out for him!” warned Matt.
The officer grabbed a revolver out of the colonel’s hand in just the
nick of time. There was a brief struggle, but the colonel got the worst
of it.
“I’ll play even with that cub of a Matt King,” the colonel was heard to
breathe, “if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“Take him out, officer,” said Hiram McCormick, in undisguised contempt,
“and, of course, you’ll confiscate the weapon. This is not Arizona.”
None too gently the policeman hustled Colonel Billings out of the door.
Hardly had they left when McGlory staggered, tossed his hands, and fell
heavily into Matt’s arms.
Instantly there was a flurry of excitement in the office, Griggs,
McCormick, and the others all hurrying forward to be of what assistance
they could.