"Well," growled his employer, "could your man suggest to Mahr that he
had had wind of something in Cosmopolitan Telephone? I'll see that
there's a move to corroborate it by noon to-day, if Long gets in his tip
early. And suggest, too, that I'm sore because he bought the Heim
Vandyke; but that if he asked me to come and see it, I'd go, and he
might have a chance to pump me. I happen to know that Mahr is in the
telephone pool up to his eyes, and he'd do anything to get into quick
communication with me. He is probably going to the club to-day, and I'll
not be there--see?"

Brencherly shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, if things turn
out--um--fishy, Long loses his job. But he's a good man to have well
placed. I guess we could land him a berth."

Gard sickened. He could read the detective's secret satisfaction in the
association of that "we" in a shady transaction. Naturally, to have a
man on whom they "had something" in a place of trust might be a great
asset.

"Long will be taken care of," he snapped, replacing his scarf pin for
the twentieth time, and making an unspoken promise to himself to send
the secretary so far away from the scene of Brencherly's activities that
he would at least have a chance to begin life anew without fear of the
past.

"May I?" queried Brencherly, with a jerk of his head toward the
telephone.

"Rather you didn't--from here. Go out, get your man and tell me when he
will tip Mahr. That means my orders in the Street. Tell him there is