"Yes, sir. I would like to pay you the balance I owe for the seat in the Stock Exchange."

"Well, I am not in any hurry about it," was the reply. "You can do so if you wish, and my niece here will leave $10,000 with you to speculate with for her. That is what we came down to-day for."

Fred looked at her without making any reply.

"I don't think I ought to attempt anything like that yet a while, Mr.

Gaines," he finally said.

"Oh, I just know you could make a fortune for me in a little while,"

said Eva. "You are fortunate in everything you do."

"I have been very fortunate of late," he replied, "but I am more free with my own money than I would dare to be with other people's cash."

"But that is just what I want you to do--use it as you would your own,"

she urged.

Fred shook his head.

"I was a messenger with one of the heaviest men in Wall Street before I went into business for myself," he returned, "and I have never forgotten what I once heard him say to a lady who wanted him to use her money in speculation."

"What did he say?" she eagerly asked.

"He said women could not understand business; that with them success was the only test of merit; that he had invested money for two women and both had threatened to horsewhip him because their investment was not a success. He then declared that he would retire from business rather than handle a woman's money."

The old broker laughed and said:

"Young man, had I been as cautious in my younger days I'd have been worth many millions to-day."

"But I don't know what to tell you to buy," she persisted.

"Then you had better keep your money. There are plenty of men in Wall Street who would be glad to take your money and--keep it. But I am not one of them."

"Well, you will let me leave it in your bank, won't you?"

"Oh, yes. You can be a depositor," and she gave him the check which her father had given her. He gave it to Allison, who entered her name as one of the bank's depositors.

When he returned to them Eva remarked that she was sorry he thought her capable of horse-whipping anybody.

"I have never been able to understand a woman, and to tell you the truth, I am afraid of anything in petticoats."

The old broker and his beautiful niece laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks.

"Well, you'll use my money now, won't you?" she asked.

"Yes, if you will tell me what to buy."

"Oh, pshaw!"

A few days after the Gainses left the bank Fred was going along Broad street when he saw a little crowd on the sidewalk listening to a young man explaining a gas-saving appliance. Fred took a great interest in the affair and after a while asked the young man to make a visit to his office and adjust one to his gaspipe. The young man did so the next day, and Fred saw it was a good thing. He asked the young inventor what he would take for the invention.

"I only want to get a living out of it," answered the young man.

"Well, I'll give you $10,000 for it."

"It's your's," said the inventor.

In two hours the papers were signed and the money paid. Then a patent was applied for and a plant secured for the manufacture of the machines.

Several days later old Broker Bowles dashed into the room.

CHAPTER XIII.--Fred Makes an Unbusiness-like Loan.

The moment the old man entered the little office Fred sprang to his feet and confronted him. There was something in the wrinkled old face that told of a terrible state of mind.

"Mr. Bowles," said Fred, by way of breaking silence.

"Yes, I am Bowles. I have come to see you and get the truth out of you."

"Take a seat," and Bob pushed a chair toward him.

"I want to know who betrayed us in that Rock Island deal?" he asked Bob.

"No one betrayed you, Mr. Bowles. Fred saw Mr. Bryant buy the stock right along--all that offered--and so we decided that he was going to boom it. We bought 15,000 shares through Barron. That's all the betraying that was done."

"That's a lie! It won't do! I know better than that! Tell the truth, or I'll choke it out of you!" and he glared fiercely at Bob.

"Pitch in and do your choking before you forget it," Bob replied.

The irate old man made a grab at his throat. Bob dodged back, and they both fell to the floor, their chairs upsetting with quite a clatter. In an instant Fred grappled the old fellow's legs and dragged him from Bob.

Bob sprang to his feet, seized an inkstand on the desk and dashed its contents all over the old broker's face and bosom. Some of it got into his eyes and blinded him.

Just then two brokers came in and separated them.

"Who is it, Halsey?" one of them asked.

"Mr. Bowles. He is away off his balance."

The two brokers laughed at the plight of the old man. His best friend could not have recognized him covered as he was with ink. As if ashamed of what he had done, Bowles scrambled to his feet, hurried out of the office and made a break for his own quarters. But his appearance on the street caused a sensation. Some boys saw him, and set up a series of yells that brought a crowd about him in less than half a minute. An officer ran up, looked hard at him for a moment or two and then collared him.

"That's all right, officer," the old man said. "Just a little accident, that's all."

"But you can't draw a crowd and obstruct the street this way," the officer replied. "Who are you?"

"I am Bowles, the broker. One of the oldest in the Street."

"What! Are you Mr. Bowles?"