"Not all of them," answered the president. "Some received
letters from a man signing himself Addison Berg, warning them
that our bank, was likely to fail any day."
"Addison Berg!" exclaimed Tom. "That must have been the
important business he had with Mr. Foger, the day I showed him
the watch charm! They were plotting the ruin of our bank then,"
and he told his father about his disastrous pursuit of the
submarine agent.
"Very likely Foger is working with Berg," admitted Mr. Damon.
"We will attend to them later. The question is, what can we do to
save the bank?"
"Get cash, and plenty of it," advised Mr. Pendergast. "Suppose
we go over the whole situation again?" and they fell to talking
stocks: bonds, securities, mortgages and interest, until the
youth, interested as he was in the situation, could follow it no
longer.
"Better go to bed, Tom," advised his father. "You can't help us
any, and we have many details to go over."
The lad reluctantly consented, and he was soon dreaming that he
was in his electric auto, trying to pull up a thousand pound lump
of gold from the bottom of the sea. He awoke to find the
bedclothes in a lump on his chest, and, removing them, fell into
a deep slumber.
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