Mr. Augustus Tibbetts, called "Bones," made money by sheer luck--he

made more by sheer artistic judgment. That is a fact which an old

friend sensed a very short time after he had renewed his acquaintance

with his sometime subordinate.

Yet Bones had the curious habit of making money in quite a different

way from that which he planned--as, for example, in the matter of the

great oil amalgamation. In these days of aeroplane travel, when it is

next to impossible to watch the comings and goings of important

individuals, or even to get wind of directors' meetings, the City is

apt to be a little jumpy, and to respond to wild rumours in a fashion

extremely trying to the nerves of conservative brokers.

There were rumours of a fusion of interests between the Franco-Persian

Oil Company and the Petroleum Consolidated--rumours which set the

shares of both concerns jumping up and down like two badly trained

jazzers. The directorate of both companies expressed their surprise

that a credulous public could accept such stories, and both M. Jorris,

the emperor of the Franco-Persian block, and George Y. Walters, the

prince regent of the "Petco," denied indignantly that any amalgamation

was even dreamt of.

Before these denials came along Bones had plunged into the oil market,

making one of the few flutters which stand as interrogation marks

against his wisdom and foresight.

He did not lose; rather, he was the winner by his adventure. The

extent of his immediate gains he inscribed in his private ledger; his

ultimate and bigger balance he entered under a head which had nothing

to do with the oil gamble--which was just like Bones, as Hamilton

subsequently remarked.

Hamilton was staying with Sanders--late Commissioner of a certain group

of Territories--and Bones was the subject of conversation one morning

at breakfast.

The third at the table was an exceedingly pretty girl, whom the maid

called "Madame," and who opened several letters addressed to "Mrs.

Sanders," but who in days not long past had been known as Patricia

Hamilton.

"Bones is wonderful," said Sanders, "truly wonderful! A man I know in

the City tells me that most of the things he touches turn up trumps.

And it isn't luck or chance. Bones is developing a queer business

sense."

Hamilton nodded.

"It is his romantic soul which gets him there," he said. "Bones will

not look at a proposition which hasn't something fantastical behind it.

He doesn't know much about business, but he's a regular whale on

adventure. I've been studying him for the past month, and I'm

beginning to sense his method. If he sees a logical and happy end to

the romantic side of any new business, he takes it on. He simply

carries the business through on the back of a dream."

The girl looked up from the coffee-pot she was handling.




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