counterplots, in which I was involved.

I took my way at last toward the market, and, hailing a boy to whom I
intrusted my letter to Detective Coogan, walked briskly to Pine Street.




CHAPTER XI

THE DEN OF THE WOLF


The street had changed its appearance in the two or three hours since I
had made my way from the Exchange through the pallid, panic-stricken
mob. There were still thousands of people between the corner of
Montgomery Street and Leidesdorff, and the little alley itself was
packed full of shouting, struggling traders. The thousands were broken
into hundreds of groups, and men were noisily buying and selling, or
discussing the chances of the market when the "big Board" should open
once more. But there was an air of confidence, almost of buoyancy, in
place of the gloom and terror that had lowered over the street at noon.
Plainly the panic was over, and men were inspirited by a belief that
"stocks were going up."

I made a few dispositions accordingly. Taking Doddridge Knapp's hint, I
engaged another broker as a relief to Eppner, a short fat man, with the
baldest head I ever saw, a black beard and a hook-nose, whose
remarkable activity and scattering charges had attracted my attention
in the morning session.