But gambling is occasionally successful, and it began to look as if
Mr. Allen would win his bet; and so he might had nothing happened. The
world was quiet enough, remarkably quiet, considering the
superabundance of explosive elements everywhere.

The financial centres seethed on as usual, like a witch's caldron, but
there were no infernal ebullitions in the form of "Black Fridays." The
storm that threatened to wreck Mr. Allen was no wide, sweeping
tempest, but rather one of those little local whirlwinds that
sometimes in the west destroy a farm or township.

For the last few weeks Mr. Fox had quietly watched the game, matured
his plans, and secured his proof in the best legal form. He now
concluded it was time to act, as he believed Mr. Allen to be in his
power. So one morning he coolly walked into that gentleman's office,
closed the door, and took a seat. Mr. Allen looked up with an
expression of surprise and annoyance on his face. He instinctively
disliked Mr. Fox, as a lion might be irritated by a cat, and the
instinctive enmity was all the stronger because of a certain family
likeness. But Mr. Allen's astuteness had nothing mean or cringing in
it, while Mr. Fox heretofore had been a sort of Uriah Heep to him.
Therefore his surprise and annoyance at his new role of cool
confidence.

"Well, sir," said he, rather impatiently, returning to his writing, as
a broad hint that communications must be brief if made at all.

"Mr. Allen," said Mr. Fox, in that clear-cut, decisive tone, that
betokens resolute purpose, and a little anger also "I must request you
to give me your undivided attention for a little time, and surely what