showed no surprise. She was used to his eccentricities. At his abrupt exit, she merely looked up from her book and smiled. Then she went on with her reading.
Templeton rushed pell mell down to Broad Street. Not till he reached the steps of the Exchange did he realize that it was night. Actually he was on his way down to buy Northern Pacific. He had decided to put every cent he owned into that stock.
As he reached the Stock Exchange he stood in front of the grim closed doors and laughed heartily. His laugh echoed eerily through the deserted canyons of the money-grubbers. A policeman emerged from Exchange Place. He walked hurriedly over and grabbed Templeton by the shoulder.
"Are you drunk?" he asked peevishly.
"No," was the reply. "I never was more sober."
"Mad then?"
"Maybe. Perhaps you know me. I'm Templeton Blaine. If you don't believe me you can telephone my wife at Stevens House."
"Say you're not that guy that writes them railroad articles, are you?" asked the policeman, deeply interested.
"I'm guilty," said Templeton.
"Say, I made some money through you," confided the policeman. "Railroad stocks are pretty good. I want you to know me, I'm Tom Grogan. Been on the force for twelve years and all I've got is flat feet."
"Have you much money?'
"A few thousand dollars."
"Would you like to make more?"
"I certainly would."
"Do you believe in me?"
"Absolutely."
"Well then come up to my office over Hazeltine's Restaurant tomorrow morning, after you go off duty but don't tell anybody where you are bound. I have a hunch that I can make such a clean-up for you, you can retire with more money than if you'd been a police-commissioner."
32
