Mr. Wright was staring at him as though he quite believed his employer had gone suddenly out of his mind.

“Well,” said the bogus Mr. Lester Armstrong, coolly, “you heard my command to you, didn’t you?”

Without another word the general manager turned and with slow, unsteady steps quitted his new employer’s presence.

“Heaven help me, that I should live to see this hour,” he groaned; “a hundred thousand dollars—­ten fortunes to a poor man like myself—­frittered away on a yacht and a pair of horses!  Mr. Marsh would pitch him out if he could but know and come back long enough to do it.  It spoils the best of ’em to have money thrown at them—­to come into a fortune that they haven’t worked for.  A yacht and a pair of horses!  What will people say to see me, a business man of supposed sense and judgment, bidding at a public auction mart for anything like this?  Heaven help me, I can see the finish of the time-honored dry goods house of Marsh & Co., in which I have taken such a world of pride.  But I suppose I must do as he has ordered, no matter how galling it is to me.”

Mr. Wright had no sooner reached the auction mart than a telegram was handed him.  It was from his employer, and read as follows: 

“There are also a pair of seal-brown pacers to be sold.  Secure these in addition to the others.  Price must not stand in the way.”

David Wright crushed the telegram in his hands, and the first oath he had ever uttered in all his life was ground out between his teeth.

The yacht and two pairs of horses were spiritedly bid for by half a dozen gentlemen, who were apparently eager to secure them.

It was easy to see that the quiet, elderly business man, who always went higher than the others, was little used to such contests, but he secured them at last for one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and there was more than one amused laugh in the auction room, knowing ones whispering that he had paid three times more than the owner had been asking for them.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Margery’s love dream.

An hour after Mr. Wright had concluded his purchase for his employer he returned to the establishment, accompanied by one of the persons authorized to collect the money.  When he presented the order at the cashier’s window, Mr. Conway, the old cashier, drew back aghast as he looked at the man.

“Is—­is it possible you have indorsed this?” he asked, turning to the manager.

Mr. Wright bowed, but his face betrayed deep agitation.

“I cannot pay it without consulting Mr. Armstrong,” he exclaimed, in a troubled voice.  “Wait a moment.”

Could it be possible that Lester Armstrong had authorized the payment of an amount like that, knowing that the firm was a little crippled for cash just at that season of the year?  Surely the man must be mad, he told himself; and that for which the money was to be paid fairly staggered him.  He had to look a second time to satisfy himself that he had not made a horrible mistake when he read:  “For one steam yacht and two pairs of horses, $125,000; terms cash.”