CHAPTER XI 

MR. LITTLESON, FLATTERER 

Once more a little luncheon was in progress at the corner table in the millionaires' club. This time Littleson also was of the party. He had been describing his luncheon of the day before to his friends. 

"I am dead sure of one thing," he declared. "She is on our side, and I honestly believe that she means getting that paper." 

"But she hasn't even the entrée to the house now," Weiss objected. 

"There are plenty of the servants there," Littleson answered, "whom she must know very well, and through whom she could get in, especially if Phineas is really up in his room. I tell you fellows, I truly believe we'll have that wretched document in our hands by this time to-morrow." 

"The day I see it in ashes," Bardsley muttered, "I'll stand you fellows a magnum of Pommery '92." 

"I wonder," Weiss remarked, "what sort of terms she is on with her cousin, the little girl with the big eyes." 

"I wish to Heaven one of you could make friends with that child!" Bardsley exclaimed. "I'd give a tidy lot to know whether Phineas Duge lies there on his bed, or whether his hand is on the telephone half the time. You are sure, Littleson, that Dick Losting is in Europe?" 

"Absolutely certain," Littleson answered. "I had a letter from him dated Paris only yesterday." 

"Then who in God's name is shaking the Chicago markets like this!" Bardsley declared, striking the newspaper which lay by his side with the palm of his hand. "You notice, too, the stocks which are being hit are all ours, every one of them. Damn! If Phineas should be sitting up there in his room with that hideous little smile upon his lips, talking and talking across the wires hour after hour, while we hang round like idiots and play his game! It's maddening to think of." 
from where?
Absolutely certain," Littleson answered. "I had a letter from him dated Paris only yesterday." 