"I mean we may be able to sell back this stock. Of course it would hardly be right to sell it to an innocent person, who did not know of its worthlessness, for then they would lose also. But I mean the Syndicate might buy it back, rather than have it become known that the concern was worthless. I don't know much about such things."
"Neither do I," agreed Helen. "I'll tell you what let's do, Joe. Let's ask Bill Watson. He use to be in business before he became a clown, and he might tell us what to do."
"A good idea," commented Joe. "We'll do it."
The old clown was in the dressing room, but he came out when Helen and Joe summoned him, half his face "made up," with streaks of red, white and blue grease paint.
"Oh, Bill, we're in such trouble!" cried Helen,
"Trouble!" exclaimed Bill. The word seemed hardly to fit in with his grotesque character. "What trouble?"
"It's about my money," Helen went on. "I'm going to lose it all, Joe thinks."
"Oh, not all!" exclaimed the young trapeze performer quickly. "Only what you invested in oil stock. Here's the story, Bill," and Joe related his part of it, Helen supplying the information needed from her end.
"Now," went on Joe, as he concluded, "what we want to know is—can Helen save any of this oil money?"
Bill Watson was silent a moment. Then he slowly shook his head.