“I’ve been a bit delayed in the delivery of the rest of the stock,” he told Scattergood, and there was cold moisture on his forehead.  “Would you mind waiting until to-morrow?”

“Guess I’ll have to,” said Scattergood.  “G’-by.  Better be movin’ around spry.  I want to git back home.”

That night McCann wired his employers to get back home as quickly as conveyances would carry them.  They did so, and in no happy mood, for Lawyer Norton had remained immovable in his position.  Young McCann told his tale hesitatingly.

“Who did you say you sold to?” demanded Crane.

“Fat man by the name of Baines.”

“Baines!  He’s busted.  Hasn’t a cent.”

“Paid cash.”

Crane looked at Keith and Keith looked at Crane.  Just then the telephone rang.  It was Scattergood.

“Want to speak to Mr. Crane,” he said.

“Hello!” Crane said, gruffly.  “What’s this about your buying pulp company stock?”

“Bought some.  Bought a little.  Called up to see why your young man wasn’t deliverin’.  Want to git home.”

“Where did you get the money?”

“Have to know that?  Have to know where it come from before you kin make delivery?  Hain’t inquisitive, be you?”

Mr. Crane made use of language.  “I want to see you—­got to have a talk.  Come right down here.”

“Jest been measurin’,” said Scattergood, “and I figger it’s a mite longer from here to there than it is from there to here.  If you want to see me, here I be.”

“Where?”

Scattergood gave an office address and hung up the receiver.

“They’ll be here in a minnit,” he said to Mr. Linderman, and he was not exaggerating greatly as to the time required to bring the gentlemen to him.  “Know Mr. Linderman—­Crane and Keith?” said Scattergood.  “Come in and set.”

“What do you want with pulp company stock?” Crane demanded.

“Paper the kitchen.  Maybe, if I kin git enough, I’ll paper the parlor.  Lack five hunderd shares for the parlor.  Got’em with you?”

“No, and we’re not going to get them.”

“Um!...  Paid for ’em, didn’t I?  Got a receipt?”

“What’s Linderman doing in this?”

Mr. Linderman leaned forward a little.  “I’m in a legitimate business transaction—­something quite foreign to you gentlemen’s notions of doing business.  I came into it to make a profit, but mostly to teach you fellows a lesson in decent business methods.  I don’t like you.  I don’t like your ways.  If you like your ways you must expect to pay for the pleasure you get out of them....  Mr. Baines is waiting for delivery of the stock he bought.”

“I suppose you know we haven’t got it?”

“I do.”

“We can’t deliver.”

“Yes, you can.  Go out in the open market and buy.  Now, I own a few shares, for instance.  I might sell.”

The faces of Messrs. Crane and Keith did not picture lively enjoyment.  They were caught.  If it had been Scattergood alone they might have wriggled out of it, they thought, for they had scant respect for his sagacity, but Linderman—­well, Linderman was not to be trifled with.