"Very well. Full steam ahead. Don't answer the signals. You did not
happen to see them, you know!"
"Quite so, sir," replied the captain, going forward.
Although the motion of the _Seahound's_ engines could hardly be
felt, the tug, in spite of all her efforts, did not seem to be gaining.
When the yacht put on her speed the little steamer gradually fell
farther and farther behind, and at last gave up the hopeless chase.
When well out at sea something went wrong with the engines, and there
was a second delay of some hours. A stop at Long Branch was therefore
out of the question.
"I told you Friday was an unlucky day," said the General.
It was eight o'clock that evening before the _Seahound_ stood off
from the Twenty-third Street wharf.
"I'll have to put you ashore in a small boat," said Druce: "you won't
mind that, I hope. The captain is so uncertain about the engines that
he doesn't want to go nearer land."
"Oh, I don't mind in the least. Good-night. I've had a lovely day."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. We will take another trip together some time,
when I hope so many things won't happen as happened to-day."
The General saw that his carriage was waiting for him, but the waning
light did not permit him to recognise his son until he was up on dry
land once more. The look on his son's face appalled the old man.
"My God! John, what has happened?"
[Illustration: "WHAT HAS HAPPENED?"]
"Everything's happened. Where are the securities that were in the
safe?"
"Oh, they're all right," said his father, a feeling of relief coming
over him. Then the thought flashed through his mind: How did John know
they were not in the safe? Sneed kept a tight rein on his affairs, and
no one but himself knew the combination that would open the safe.
"How did you know that the securities were not there?"
"Because I had the safe blown open at one o'clock to-day."
"Blown open! For Heaven's sake, why?"
"Step into the carriage, and I'll tell you on the way home. The bottom
dropped out of everything. All the Sneed stocks went down with a run.
We sent a tug after you, but that old devil had you tight. If I could
have got at the bonds, I think I could have stopped the run. The
situation might have been saved up to one o'clock, but after that, when
the Street saw we were doing nothing, all creation couldn't have
stopped it. Where are the bonds?"
"I sold them to Druce."
"What did you get? Cash?"
"I took his cheque on the Trust National Bank."
"Did you cash it? Did you cash it?" cried the young man. "And if you
did, where is the money?"
"Druce asked me as a favour not to present the cheque until to-morrow."
The young man made a gesture of despair.
"The Trust National went to smash to-day at two. We are paupers,
father; we haven't a cent left out of the wreck. That cheque business
is so evidently a fraud that--but what's the use of talking. Old Druce
has the money, and he can buy all the law he wants in New York. God!
I'd like to have a seven seconds' interview with him with a loaded
seven-shooter in my hand! We'd see how much the law would do for him
then."
General Sneed despondently shook his head.
"It's no use, John," he said. "We're in the same business ourselves,
only this time we got the hot end of the poker. But he played it low
down on me, pretending to be friendly and all that." The two men did
not speak again until the carriage drew up at the brown stone mansion,
which earlier in the day Sneed would have called his own. Sixteen
reporters were waiting for them, but the old man succeeded in escaping
to his room, leaving John to battle with the newspaper men.
Next morning the papers were full of the news of the panic. They said
that old Druce had gone in his yacht for a trip up the New England
coast. They deduced from this fact, that, after all, Druce might not
have had a hand in the disaster; everything was always blamed on Druce.
Still it was admitted that, whoever suffered, the Druce stocks were all
right. They were quite unanimously frank in saying that the Sneeds were
wiped out, whatever that might mean. The General had refused himself to
all the reporters, while young Sneed seemed to be able to do nothing
but swear.
Shortly before noon General Sneed, who had not left the house, received
a letter brought by a messenger.
He feverishly tore it open, for he recognised on the envelope the well-
known scrawl of the great speculator.
DEAR SNEED (it ran),
You will see by the papers that I am off on a cruise, but they
are as wrong as they usually are when they speak of me. I learn
there was a bit of a flutter in the market while we were away
yesterday, and I am glad to say that my brokers, who are sharp
men, did me a good turn or two. I often wonder why these flurries come,
but I suppose it is to let a man pick up some sound stocks at a
reasonable rate, if he has the money by him. Perhaps they are also sent
to teach humility to those who might else become purse-proud. We are
but finite creatures, Sneed, here to-day and gone to-morrow. How
foolish a thing is pride! And that reminds me that if your two
daughters should happen to think as I do on the uncertainty of riches,
I wish you would ask them to call. I have done up those securities in a
sealed package and given the parcel to my daughter-in-law. She has no
idea what the value of it is, but thinks it a little present from me to
your girls. If, then, they should happen to call, she will hand it to
them; if not, I shall use the contents to found a college for the
purpose of teaching manners to young women whose grandfather used to
feed pigs for a living, as indeed my own grandfather did. Should the
ladies happen to like each other, I think I can put you on to a deal
next week that will make up for Friday. I like you, Sneed, but you have
no head for business. Seek my advice oftener.
Ever yours,
DRUCE.
The Sneed girls called on Mrs. Edward Druce.