McNally would be on the ground in case Jim should try to do anything.

"Well," thought Porter, "I'll go. I guess it's safe enough." He had closed
his desk when the door opened and an office boy came in with a telegram.
Porter tore it open listlessly, but his indolence vanished as he read the
first line. The message was from Manchester, and it read as follows:--

M. & T. subscription book stubs show issue of nine thousand shares
new stock to Weeks, Myers, and Spencer, ten per cent paid, dated
yesterday.

POWERS.

When a man finds himself in an ambush, or when an utterly unexpected
attack is made upon him, he shows what he is. It was characteristic of
Porter that after the moment of dazed unrealization had passed he began
almost mechanically to plan a break for cover; he wished that he had not
gone into the fight, and berated his stupidity in not foreseeing the move;
it had not occurred to him that the subscription for the stock had not
closed long ago. After a few minutes of vain search for an avenue of
retreat, he saw that it was too late to do anything but fight it out; Jim
Weeks was not likely to let an antagonist off easily.

He called to his secretary: "Telephone Shields to come over here, will
you, as soon as he can? And ask McNally to come too." While he was waiting
for them he sat quite still in his big chair and thought hard, but he
could see no way of countering the blow.

The two men he had sent for came into the office together. Porter did not
rise. With a nod of greeting he handed the yellow envelope to McNally, who