“Delavan! Yes, It’s Delavan!”
“Then you must know where Delavan is?” called someone, rather banteringly.
“I do,” nodded Coggswell.
One of the Bolton brokers sent a messenger scurrying to the gallery to inform the arch-plotter.
“Where is Delavan?”
It rose as a shout, penetrating every nook and corner of the great Stock Exchange space.
“Right up there!” called Mr. Coggswell, turning and pointing toward the gallery.
At that instant Mr. Delavan stood up. As he rose he cast off the linen duster and peaked cap. In the next moment he removed the disfiguring, concealing goggles from his eyes, dropping them to the floor.