turn it hasn’t from beginning to end.  I need only say, my dear Stacy, that I don’t write slang to you, but that nobody who understands slang ever writes it in that way.  And then the knowledge of my opinion of Barker is such as might be gained from the reading of my letters by a person who couldn’t comprehend my feelings.  Now, let me play inquisitor for a few moments.  Has anybody access to my letters to you?”

“No one.  I keep them locked up in a cabinet.  I only make memorandums of your instructions, which I give to my clerks, but never your letters.”

“But your clerks sometimes see you make memorandums from them?”

“Yes, but none of them have the ability to do this sort of thing, nor the opportunity of profiting by it.”

“Has any woman—­now this is not retaliation, my dear Jim, for I fancy I detect a woman’s cleverness and a woman’s stupidity in this forgery—­any access to your secrets or my letters?  A woman’s villainy is always effective for the moment, but always defective when probed.”

The look of scorn which passed over Stacy’s face was quite as distinct as Demorest’s previous protest, as he said contemptuously, “I’m not such a fool as to mix up petticoats with my business, whatever I do.”

“Well, one thing more.  I have told you that in my opinion the forger has a commercial education or style, that he doesn’t know me nor Barker, and don’t understand slang.  Now, I have to add what must have occurred to you, Jim, that the forger is either a coward, or his object is not altogether mercenary:  for the same ability displayed in this letter would on the signature alone—­had it been on a check or draft—­have drawn from your bank twenty times the amount concerned.  Now, what is the actual loss by this forgery?”

“Very little; for you’ve got a good price for your stocks, considering the depreciation in realizing suddenly on so large an amount.  I told my broker to sell slowly and in small quantities to avoid a panic.  But the real loss is the control of the stock.”

“But the amount I had was not enough to affect that,” said Demorest.

“No, but I was carrying a large amount myself, and together we controlled the market, and now I have unloaded, too.”

“You sold out! and with your doubts?” said Demorest.

“That’s just it,” said Stacy, looking steadily at his companion’s face, “because I had doubts, and it won’t do for me to have them.  I ought either to have disobeyed your letter and kept your stock and my own, or have done just what I did.  I might have hedged on my own stock, but I don’t believe in hedging.  There is no middle course to a man in my business if he wants to keep at the top.  No great success, no great power, was ever created by it.”

Demorest smiled.  “Yet you accept the alternative also, which is ruin?”

“Precisely,” said Stacy.  “When you returned the other day you were bound to find me what I was or a beggar.  But nothing between.  However,” he added, “this has nothing to do with the forgery, or,” he smiled grimly, “everything to do with it.  Hush!  Barker is coming.”