"Your paper certainly turned the trick. I gotta hand it to you!"
"What trick?" asked Hal, not recognizing the stranger.
"Selling my stock. Streaky Mountain Copper Company. Don't you remember?"
Hal did remember now. It was L.P. McQuiggan.
"More of the same for me, if you please," continued the visitor. "I've just made the deal with Shearson. He's stuck me up on rates a little. That's all right, though. The 'Clarion' fetches the dough. I want to start the new campaign with an interview on our prospects. Is it O.K.?"
"Come up and see Mr. Ellis," said Hal.
Having led him to the editorial office, Hal sat down to work, but found no escape from his thoughts. There was but one thing to do: he must have it out at once with Dr. Surtaine. He telephoned the factory for an appointment. Sharp-eared McQuiggan caught the call.
"That my old pal, Andy?" said he. "Gimme a shot at him while you've got him on the wire, will you?"
Cheery, not to say chirpy, was the mining promoter's greeting projected into the transmitter which Hal turned over to him. Straightway, however, a change came o'er his blithe spirit.
"Something's biting the old geezer," he informed Hal and Ellis. "Seems to have a grouch. Says he's coming over, pronto—right quick."