CHAPTER IV.

UNDER THE SHADOWS OF THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE.





When the "Fuerst Bismarck" moved grandly away from her wharf and
glided down the stream, Jack Witherspoon paced the deck with clouded
brows. The acute Detroit lawyer had rightly estimated the crushing
effect of his disclosure of Hugh Worthington's treachery.

The two college mates were now banded together, however, by a secret
compact, and both of them realized the craft of the foe whom they
were fighting. "Not a letter, not a cable, not a single scrap of
paper," said the wary Jack. "And you must keep away from me and be
sure to dissemble all your wrath."

Clayton appreciated the prudence which had separated them in
the last three days of his friend's stay, and minutely followed
Witherspoon's final descriptions of the hidden plans of the great
syndicate. "You must be ever on your guard," said the new champion,
"and remember the annual election and this strange wedding must be
allowed to take place without suspicion.