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A young man had been waiting to see Brainard and as he entered he asked him in.

Just then Sheppard walked casually through the reception room and into the board room.

Constance quickly closed her door. She heard the young man leave Brainard’s office but she was too engrossed to pay attention to anything but the voices that were coming through the microphone. She was writing feverishly what she heard.

“Yes, Sheppard, I saw her again last night.”

“Where?”

“She was to meet me here, but he stayed later than usual with that new secretary of his. So I cut out and met her at the street entrance.”

“And?”

“I told her of the new secretary. She did just what I wanted–came up here–and, say Sheppard–what do you think? They were in this room and he had his arms about her!”

“The letters are all right, are they? How much did you have to pay the Leblanc girl?”

“Twenty thousand. That’s all charged up against the pool. Say, Leblanc is–well–give you my word, Sheppard–I can hardly blame Brainard after all.”

“You ARE the last word in woman haters, Lee.”

Both men laughed.

“And the letters?”

“Don’t worry. They are where they’ll do the most good. Sybil has them herself. Now, what have you to report? You saw the district attorney?”

“Yes. He is ready to promise us all immunity if we will go on the stand for the state. The criminal business will come later. Only, you have to play him carefully. He’s on the level. A breath of what we really want and it will be all off.”

“Then we’ll have to hold the stock up, as though nothing was going to happen.”

They had left the board room.

Constance hurried into Brainard’s office. He was sunk deep in his chair reading some papers.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“She has entered a suit for divorce. That young man was a process server.”

“Yes.”

“You are named as co-respondent along with Blanche Leblanc.”

“I?”

“Yes. It must have been an afterthought. Everything is going– fortune, reputation–even your friendship, now, Constance–“

“Going? Not yet.”

She read hastily what she had overheard.

“Devil take Worthington,” ground out Brainard, gripping the arms of his chair. “For weeks I have suspected him. They have been too clever for me. Constance, while I have been going around laying myself open to discovery, Sybil has played a cool and careful game.”

He was pacing the floor.

“So–that’s the plan. Hold back, keep the stock up until they get started. Then let it go down until I’m forced to sell out at a loss, buy it back cheap, and control the reorganization. Well, I haven’t control now, alone. I wish I did have. But neither have they. The public owns the stock now. I need it. Who’ll get it first–that’s the question!”

He was thinking rapidly.

“If you could do a little bear manipulation yourself,” she suggested. “That might get the public scared. You could get enough to control, perhaps, then. They wouldn’t dare sell–or if they did they would weaken their own control. Either way, you get them, going or coming.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. Play their own game–ahead of them– accelerate it.”

It was just after the lunch hour that Constance resumed her place at her desk with the receiver at her ear.

There were voices again in the board room.

“My God, Sheppard, what do you think? Someone is selling Motors– five points off and still going down.”

“Who is it? What shall we do?”

“Who! Brainard, of course. Some one has peached. What are you going to do?”

“Wait. Let’s call up the News Agency. Hello–yes–what? Unofficial rumor of prosecution of Motors by the government–large selling orders placed in advance. The deuce–say, we’ll have to meet this or–“

“Meet nothing. It’s Brainard. He’s going down in a big crash. We pour our money into his pockets now and let him sell at the top and grab back control with OUR money? Not much. I sell, too.”

Already boys were on the street with extras crying the great crash in Motors. It was only a matter of minutes before all the news reading public were thoroughly scared at the apparently bursting bubble. Shares were dug up in small lots, in huge blocks and slammed on the market for what they would bring. All day the pounding went on. Thousands of shares were poured out until Motors which had been climbing toward par in the neighborhood of 79 had declined forty points. Brainard had jumped in first and had realized the top price for his holdings.