"Fletcher, what's in the wind? Don't Danforth & Co. do their own buying
and selling? They don't employ Tonsor, do they?"
"You don't expect me to tell their business, do you?"
"Well, no,--not exactly. I thought you might have dipped in on your own
account."
"That's a good joke. How should _I_ have the funds?"
"Any chances to invest, Fletcher? I'll give liberal commissions."
"Chances are plenty for those that have money."
Fletcher started as though he would return to his place of business. But
Sandford dropped his smooth and honeyed tone and spoke more decidedly.
"You can't blind me, Fletcher. You know what the bears are doing. They
are ruining everything, knocking down prices, destroying credit, using
what little money there is for speculation, thriving on the distress of
the public. It's no better than highway-robbery; and it's my belief you
are concerned in the plot."
"You had better go to the nobs, and not talk to me. You might as well
pitch into the tellers or messengers when the banks suspend payment."
"No,--I shan't let you off. The 'nobs,' as you call them, dare not be
seen in this matter; they will pocket the chestnuts, but they will get
some cat's-paw to rake them out of the ashes."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
Fletcher was astonished at his own temerity as soon as he had uttered
the words; but his prosperity and the support of Bullion had given him
some courage.
"Do? you scoundrel!" said Sandford, in a rage that rarely overtook him.
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