not the fault of Colonel Dendon, or you or me. It's the fault of the market.
"He's often said to me that if I could introduce him to somebody with money—somebody who'd buy some of his stocks—he'd give me twenty-five per cent, of what he made. It's a regular business deal. It's done every day. Colonel Dendon is a sort of a promotor. I'm only helping him. It's perfectly honest—that is, as honest—well, it's as honest as lots of things I know about. I wouldn't get you into any trouble, Guy."
"I hope not," answered the weak youth, who believed nearly all that Simon told him. "But if these stocks are good ones won't Dick make money on them? And if he does how is the colonel going to make any?"
"I didn't say for sure that the stocks were good," replied Simon. "They may be good for all I know. Maybe Dick will have to hold them for some time before he can realize on them. I don't bother with all those details. The colonel has stocks to sell—all kinds—I simply introduce Dick to him and he does the rest, and pays me and you for our trouble."
"Then I guess it's all right," assented Guy, a little doubtfully.
"Of course it is." declared Simon very positively.
That evening, as Dick and his friends sat in the private parlor of their suite of rooms, there was a knock at the door. Simon, being nearest it, an-