The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-06-28

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than ever before. Men who in social life were wont to look on him as a pariah, were none the less jumping as he pulled the commercial strings and were dancing to his music. For Caleb. his slow lines at length laid out, was making a general advance upon the financial defenses behind which for
 years the staid business men of the county had dozed in short-sighted se- curity
 The first news of the attack came with the announcement of his merger of two railroads-the Oak1and-Rodney and the Upstate-with the c. G. & K. which virtually gave the last named Stocks had been hammered down, shareholders stampeded by calamity rumors, and holdings brought in at panic rates by the Fighter. Then had come reorganization and-presto! the c. G. & x. had benevolentlv assfmi- lated its two chief rivals. Men who had considered their railroad stock as safe an investment as government bonds now stayed in town for lack of funds to go away for the summer: or else in order to- seek eager alliance
 with the Fighters swfft-swelling in- terests- Pompton Avenue was hard hit.
 Nor was this the sum of Caleb s warm weather activities. There were other deals less widely blazoned, yet quite as remunerative; deals that plunged so far beneath the surface of practical politics as to emerge black with the mire of the bottom. But it was gold-bearing mud, and Caleb knew the secret of assaying it. These sub merged ventures brought at odd hours to the stuffy private office a success sion of slum-dwellers: even as the
 mergers brought. at other hours, the Pompton Avenue element. Long were the conferences and deeply was the underworld stirred thereby. Thus, in the maze of novels 'across the tracks, as well as along the hill boulevards, did Caleb Conover cause .unwonted ac- tivity of a sort, during the stifling days of dust.
 Caine, remaining in town, more to glean ir the path of Conover's sickle than to look after the interests of his own newspaper, was moved to ad- miring envy. The Steeloid deal which much for both himself and Conover, was now but a side issue with the lat ter; a mere detail whose ultimate fate could not materially affect his fast multiplying wealth. The campaign which for years had been Caleb's ob- jective, was carried through now with a rush and daring that led onlookers, who knew not how 1ong-devised was each seemingly wild move, to catch their breath and wonder when the not come. It would not come. Con over could have told them that, had he in these hot weeks of ceaseless rush possessed the leisure and will to ex- plain his lightning moves.
 Biacarda. too.-emersins from retire ment with scared face, a useless left arm and a heart black with mingled dread, deathless hatred and an ob- sessed craving for revenge,-Blacarda noted his foes sudden triumph and yearned to the depths of his semi Semitic soul to turn in some way the Fighters flank But for the moment, he was helpless. He could but set into motion such few schemes of his own az seemed feasible; and begin a course Of underground counterplanning, whose progress was by no means rapid enough to ease the hate that mastered him. Meantime he kept out of the Fighters way. For, even yet. his wrecked nerves thrilled treacherously at fear of physical I1earness to the brute who had broken him.
 To Gaines casual warning anent Bla- carda, Caleb gave no heed whatever. He had conquered the man once Should the need arise, he could do so again. In the meantime he had no time to waste in following his vic- tim's crawling movements.
 Great was Caleb Conover. He was fighting. He had always been fighting. Just now, battle was as the breath of his nostrils For he was waging a winning fight; warning and winning on a scale to which he had never before been able to attain. And the militant bulldog part of him was strangely elate.
 Bat. when the hot night came, and the days warfare was over. there would ever come upon Conover an odd sense of emptiness. of lonely depres- sion. More than once, absent minded ly, he caught himself planning to ban ish tho feeling by picking up his hat and hurrying across to Desiree's home. Then, with a slight shock, he would remember that Desfree was in the Adirondacks and that he was-alone-
 He had always known the absent girl was necessary to his happiness; that without her he was loveless. unlovable financial machine. But now he realized with a sick ache at his heart how utterly he had grown to de- perd upon her actual presence-on the constant knowledge that she was near. When this, his first clumsy effort at se1f-ana1ysis, had been worked out Caleb laughed at himself for a fool. But there was as little merriment in the laugh as with most mortals whc seek to evoke self-amusement from the same cause.
 It was in one of these desolate moods, after a twelve-hour days cease less work, that it occurred to Conover one evening to call on Lefty Standish. his idea of making her his wife. But that would come in due time, and he had been busy with mat ters that could not be 50 readily post poned. True, he had at last paid the deferred dinner call But Miss Stand ish, the butler had said, was not at home. Twice he had repeated the visit. and both times had been met by the same message. This did not strike him as at all peculiar. In summer. people were aptNto be out of doors. Perhaps tonight he might find her at home. At all events, the walk would his loneliness.
 Painfully donning his highest collar. gayeet tie and new creaun-colored crash suit. the Fighter turned his face toward Pompton Avenue. AS he near ed the Standish house, the murmur of voices, occasional bursts of low laugh ter and the idle twanging of a guitar his ears. Several people were grouped on the piazza So interested were they in a story one of their num- Der was telling that Caleb stood on the topmost| step before his approach was noticed.
 Lefty. following eagerly each tone of the narrator's voice. in search of the psychological moment for laughing, looked up to see Conover towering over