It must be admitted that our hero was perplexed, and with good reason.
He felt certain that the man in bed was shamming, that he was hardly
sick at all. If so, what was his game?

"Something is surely wrong somewhere," he reasoned. "I wish I could get
to the bottom of it."

The room next to the one occupied by David Ball was empty and he slipped
into this. The room contained a closet, and on the other side was
another closet, opening into the room the men were in. The partition
between was of boards, and as the other door stood wide open, Joe, by
placing his head to the boards, could hear fairly well.

"You have the stock?" he heard Maurice Vane ask.

"Yes, in my valise. Hand me the bag and I'll show you," answered the man
in bed. "Oh, how weak I feel!" he sighed.

There was a silence and then the rustling of papers.

"And what is your bottom price for these?" went on Maurice Vane.

"Thirty thousand dollars."

"I told Mr. Vane you might possibly take twenty-five thousand," came
from the man called Anderson.

"They ought to be worth face value--fifty thousand dollars," said the
man in bed.