Alton had scarcely reopened his office when a produce broker he had dealings with came in. "I've worked off the first two car-loads, and you can send some more along," he said. "Now, it's not quite my business, but if you'll not stand out about the usual commission I can put you on to a man who wants a hundred fat cattle."
"It's a deal," said Alton, glancing thoughtfully at his visitor, whom he considered an honest man. "Now I think you know a good deal about all that goes on in this city?"
"Oh, yes," said the other man, "I have to. Glad to be of any use to you I can."
"Well," said Alton, "I've noticed men smiling at me kind of curiously, and I want to know right off what's the meaning of it. There's nothing especially humorous about me."
"You don't know?" and his visitor appeared to reflect when Alton shook his head.
"Then to put it straight, there are folks who would not believe you.
No, stop a little, I mentioned nothing about myself. Have you done
anything lately, that might have hurt the susceptibilities of Mr.
Cartier?"
Alton laughed grimly. "Yes," he said, "I hope so. I hove him out of this place one night and he fell downstairs."
"Well," said the other man, smiling, "that accounts for a good deal.
Do you happen to be on good terms with Mr. Hallam? Cartier is."
"No," said Alton dryly, "I don't. When Mr. Hallam and I feel at peace one of us will be dead."
"Now, this thing is getting a little more clear to me. I wasn't willing to believe all I heard, anyway."