"W-a-t-e-r-m-a-n. D-u-v-a-l. He's telling us who's there. David
Ward. Hegan. Prentice."
"Prentice!" whispered Montague. "Why, he's up in the Adirondacks!"
"He came down on a special train to-day," whispered the other. "Ward
telegraphed him--I think that's where we got our tip. Henry
Patterson. He's the real head of the Oil Trust now. Bascom of the
Empire Bank. He's Waterman's man."
"You can imagine from that list that there's something big going
on," Bates muttered; and he spelled the names of several other
bankers, heads of the most important institutions in Wall Street.
"Talking about Stewart," spelled out Rodney.
"That's ancient history," muttered Bates. "He's a dead one."
"P-r-i-c-e," spelled Rodney.
"Price!" exclaimed Montague.
"Yes," said the other. "I saw him down in the lobby. I rather
thought he'd come."
"But to a conference with Waterman!" exclaimed Montague.
"That's all right," said Bates. "Why not?"
"But they are deadly enemies!"
"Oh," said the other, "you don't want to let yourself believe things
like that.
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