11 P. M. to 4 A. M.

Secretary of War Weeks has several times intimated his absolute confidence in the trustworthiness of his servants. He said so in outright fashion to the Filipinos who objected to Governor General Wood, his legate in the Philippines. Two weeks ago a Republican insurgent in Congress presented a resolution for an investigation of General Wood's stewardship in the islands. That was an indication that there were rumors in the political winds.

But apparently journalism was even ahead of politics in scenting the rumors. Some time ago Richard V. Oulahan, chief of The New York Times correspondents in Washington, set sail across the Pacific, leaving this country at the very time when Congress was assembling--a most illogical procedure. Mr. Oulahan began to write articles on the Philippine political situation. Then suddenly he sent a new story.

Osborne C. Wood, the 26-year-old younger son of General Wood, a lieutenant in the Army, an aid on his father's staff, admitted to Mr. Oulahan that he had made "$700,000 or $800,000" in tradings on the New York Stock Exchange.

Politics, business, the Army sat up and took notice. Opponents of the Administration rubbed their hands at the prospect of an investigation. Secretary Weeks was perhaps a bit annoyed. The President and the Secretary both let it be known that they had heard of young Wood's speculations, had informed General Wood of the fact, and that the speculations had been stopped. They also affirmed that they regarded such heavy speculation by Army officers as very bad policy. Henry B. Thompson, father-in-law of Lieutenant Wood, hurried down to Washington on an unknown errand.

Meanwhile Wall Street began to figure. How had Wood made so much money with so little initial capital? Supposedly his chief speculation was in Standard Oil of New Jersey. But it was almost beyond belief that a young man so far away that the Stock Exchange hours of 10 A. M. to 3 P. M. were actually 11 P. M. to 4 A. M. for him--that he, at the far end of a cable, had made a fortune.

And the income tax collectors also took pencils and began to calculate. The tax on $800,000 must be--well, about $376,000.

And a famous columnist, meditating over his typewriter, conceived and wrote:

"The good fortune of Lieut. Osborne C. Wood confutes the old fatalistic song lamenting that wealth is not for the soldiers, and ending, 'You're in the army now.' "*

*The complete words: You're in the Army now. You're not behind the plough. You'll never get rich, you sonofagun! You're in the Army now!