Montague smiled sadly.  “That sounds very much like what he said, Alice.  I guess you have made up your mind to marry him, after all.”

Alice set out, accompanied by Oliver, who was bound for Bertie Stuyvesant’s imitation baronial castle, in another part of the mountains.  Betty Wyman was also to be there, and Oliver was to spend a full month.  But three days later Montague received a telegram, saying that his brother would arrive in New York shortly after eight that morning, and to wait at his home for him.  Montague suspected what this meant; and he had time enough to think it over and make up his mind.  “Well?” he said, when Oliver came in.  “It’s come again, has it?”

“Yes,” said Oliver, “it has.”

“Another ’sure thing’?”

“Dead sure.  Are you coming in?” Oliver asked, after a moment.

Montague shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “I think once was enough for me.”

“You don’t mean that, Allan!” protested the other.

“I mean it,” was the reply.

“But, my dear fellow, that is perfectly insane!  I have information straight from the inside—­it’s as certain as the sunrise!”

“I have no doubt of that,” responded Montague.  “But I am through with gambling in Wall Street.  I’ve seen enough of it, Oliver, and I’m sick of it.  I don’t like the emotions it causes in me—­I don’t like the things it makes me do.”

“You found the money came in useful, didn’t you?” said Oliver, sarcastically.

“Yes, I can use what I’ve got.”

“And when that’s gone?”

“I don’t know about that yet.  But I’ll find some way that I like better.”

“All right,” said Oliver; “it’s your own lookout.  I will make my own little pile.”

They rode down town in a cab together.  “Where does your information come from this time?” asked Montague.

“The same source,” was the reply.

“And is it Transcontinental again?”

“No,” said Oliver; “it’s another stock.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Mississippi Steel,” was the answer.

Montague turned and stared at him.  “Mississippi Steel!” he gasped.

“Why, yes,” said Oliver.  “What’s that to you?” he added, in perplexity.

“Mississippi Steel!” Montague ejaculated again.  “Why, didn’t you know about my relations with the Northern Mississippi Railroad?”

“Of course,” said Oliver; “but what’s that got to do with Mississippi Steel?”

“But it’s Price who is managing the deal—­the man who owns the Mississippi Steel Company!”

“Oh,” said the other, “I had forgotten that.”  Oliver’s duties in Society did not give him much time to ask about his brother’s affairs.

“Allan,” he added quickly, “you won’t say anything about it!”

“It’s none of my business now,” answered the other.  “I’m out of it.  But naturally I am interested to know.  What is it—­a raid on the stock?”