There was a moment’s pause.  “And by the way,” Bates added, “the Oil Trust has made another haul!  The Electric Manufacturing Company is in trouble—­that’s a rival of one of their enterprises!  Doesn’t it all fit together beautifully?”

Montague thought for a moment or two.  “This is rather important news to me,” he said; “I’ve got money in the Trust Company of the Republic.  Do you suppose they are going to let it go down?”

“I talked it over with Rodney,” the other replied.  “He says Waterman was quite explicit in his promises to see Prentice through.  And there’s one thing you can say about old Dan—­for all his villainies, he never breaks his word.  So I imagine he’ll save it.”

“But then, why give out this report?” exclaimed the lawyer.

“Don’t you see?” said Bates.  “He wants a chance to save it.”

Montague’s jaw fell.  “Oh!” he said.

“It’s as plain as the nose on your face,” said Bates.  “That story will come out to-morrow morning, and everybody will say it was the blunder of a newspaper reporter; and then Waterman will come forward and do the rescue act.  It’ll be just like a play.”

“It’s taking a long chance,” said Montague, and added, “I had thought of telling Prentice, who’s an intimate friend of mine; but I don’t suppose it will do him any good.”

“Poor old Prentice can’t help himself,” was the reply.  “All you can do is to make him lose a night’s sleep.”

Montague went out, with a new set of problems to ponder.  As he went home, he passed the magnificent building of the Gotham Trust Company, where there stood a long line of people who had prepared to spend the night.  All the afternoon a frantic mob had besieged the doors, and millions of dollars had been withdrawn in a few hours.  Montague knew that by the time he got down town the next morning there would be another such mob in front of the Trust Company of the Republic; but he was determined to stand by his own resolve.  However, he had sent a telegram to Oliver, warning him to return at once.

He went home and found there another letter from Lucy Dupree.

“Dear Allan,” she wrote.  “No doubt you have heard the news that Ryder has been forced out of the Gotham Trust.  But I have accomplished part of my purpose—­Waterman has promised that he will put him on his feet again after this trouble is over.  In the meantime, I am told to go away.  This is for the best; you will remember that you yourself urged me to go.  Ryder cannot see me, because the newspaper reporters are following him so closely.

“I beg of you not to try to find me.  I am hateful in my own sight, and you will never see me again.  There is one last thing that you can do for me.  Go to Stanley Ryder and offer him your help—­I mean your advice in straightening out his affairs.  He has no friends now, and he is in a desperate plight.  Do this for me.  Lucy.”

CHAPTER XXII