“One thing more,” said Sandford.  “Suppose any one should get wind of this, and grow suspicious;—­Bullion himself might be foolish enough to let the cat out of the bag;—­we might find the shares of the Vortex in the market, and the bears running them down to an uncomfortable figure.”

“True enough.  We must stop that.”

“The only way is to keep a sharp lookout, and if any of the stock is offered, to buy it up.  Half a dozen of us can take all that will be likely to come into market.”

“How many shares do you own, Sandford?” asked Mr. Fayerweather, with a quizzical look.  “Is this a nice little scheme of yours to run them off at par?  It’s a shrewd dodge.”

“You do me wrong,” said Sandford, with a look of wounded innocence.  “I merely want to sustain the credit of the Company.”

“Oh, no doubt!” said the President.  “Well, we will agree, then, not to let the shares fall below ninety, say.  It would be suspicious, I think, to hold them higher than that, when money is two and a half per cent. a month.”

“Very well.  You will see to this?  Be careful what men you speak to.”

Mr. Sandford, being left alone, bethought him of Monroe.  He did not wish to give him a statement of affairs; he had put him off once, and must find some way to satisfy him.  How was it to be done?  The financier meditated.  “I have it,” said he; “I’ll send him a quarter’s interest in advance.  That’s as much as I can spare in these times, when interest grows like those miraculous pumpkin-vines out West.”  He drew a check for two hundred dollars, and dispatched it to Monroe by letter.

So Mr. Sandford had all things snug.  The Vortex was going on under close-reefed topsails.  If the notes he held were paid as they matured, he would have money for new operations; if not, he had arranged that the debtors should be piloted over the bar and anchored in safely till the storm should blow over.  Everything was secured, as far as human foresight could anticipate.

Mr. Sandford had now but little use for Fletcher’s services, except to look after his debtors,—­to know who was “shinning” in the street, or “kite-flying” with accommodation-paper.  Still he did not admit the agent into his confidence.  But this active and scheming mind was not long without employment.  Mr. Bullion had seen him in frequent communication with Sandford, and thereby formed a high opinion of his shrewdness and tact; for he knew that Sandford was very wary in selecting his associates.  He sought Fletcher.

“Young man,” said Bullion, pointing his wisp of an eyebrow at him, “do you want a job?  Few words and keep mum.  Yes or no?”

“Yes,” said Fletcher, decidedly.

“I like your pluck,” said Bullion.

“It doesn’t take much pluck to follow Mr. Bullion’s lead.”

“None of your nonsense.  How do you know anything about me, or what I am going to do?  I may fail to-morrow,—­God forbid!—­but when the wind comes, it’s the tall trees that are knocked over.”