"Of course, it's a terrible day on the Street," he hastened to reply. "Everything's up in the air—they're like a lot of lunatics. Garraboy hasn't had time to think. That oughtn't to alarm you."
"But I left word at his office for him to telephone me, and it is now," she said, glancing at the clock, "an hour and a half since the close."
"There are probably a hundred inquiries of the same sort awaiting him," he said to reassure her. "What are you afraid of?"
"I don't know—and yet I am a little anxious. Suppose he has used my stocks? Such things happen every day."
"The best thing is to find out at once how Garraboy stands—if he's been caught in the drop or not. Then we can take our measures."
"How'll you do that?"
"Call up Bruce Gunther and get him on the trail. May I telephone?"
"Do so."
"He's probably at the club now," he said, taking up the receiver and giving a number. "Yes, he's in. That's lucky. I'll get him in a moment." Then he added irritably: "How the deuce did you ever come to deal with Garraboy?"
"Why, I've known him ever since I came to New York. I wanted to invest some money—I didn't know any one else; and then, he was very—friendly; wanted to make some money for me. That's how it was."