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diff --git a/old/54130-0.txt b/old/54130-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7f34a3b..0000000 --- a/old/54130-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5207 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wall street stories, by Edwin Lefèvre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Wall street stories - -Author: Edwin Lefèvre - -Release Date: February 7, 2017 [EBook #54130] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WALL STREET STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - WALL STREET - STORIES - - - BY - EDWIN LEFÈVRE - - - NEW YORK - McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. - 1901 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY S. S. MCCLURE CO. - 1900 AND 1901, BY FRANK A. MUNSEY - 1901, BY MCCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. - - - FIRST IMPRESSION OCTOBER, 1901 - SECOND IMPRESSION NOVEMBER, 1901 - THIRD IMPRESSION NOVEMBER, 1901 - - - - - TO - - Samuel Hughes Watts - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - THE WOMAN AND HER BONDS 1 - - THE BREAK IN TURPENTINE 31 - - THE TIPSTER 77 - - A PHILANTHROPIC WHISPER 113 - - THE MAN WHO WON 129 - - THE LOST OPPORTUNITY 161 - - PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST 175 - - A THEOLOGICAL TIPSTER 209 - - - - - THE WOMAN AND HER BONDS - - -It seemed to Fullerton F. Colwell, of the famous Stock-Exchange house of -Wilson & Graves, that he had done his full duty by his friend Harry -Hunt. He was a director in a half score of companies—financial -_débutantes_ which his firm had “brought out” and over whose -stock-market destinies he presided. His partners left a great deal to -him, and even the clerks in the office ungrudgingly acknowledged that -Mr. Colwell was “the hardest worked man in the place, barring none”—an -admission that means much to those who know it is always the downtrodden -clerks who do all the work and their employers who take all the profit -and credit. Possibly the important young men who did all the work in -Wilson & Graves’ office bore witness to Mr. Colwell’s industry so -cheerfully, because Mr. Colwell was ever inquiring, very courteously, -and, above all, sympathetically, into the amount of work each man had to -perform, and suggesting, the next moment, that the laborious amount in -question was indisputably excessive. Also, it was he who raised -salaries; wherefore he was the most charming as well as the busiest man -there. Of his partners, John G. Wilson was a consumptive, forever going -from one health resort to another, devoting his millions to the purchase -of railroad tickets in the hope of out-racing Death. George B. Graves -was a dyspeptic, nervous, irritable, and, to boot, penurious; a man -whose chief recommendation at the time Wilson formed the firm had been -his cheerful willingness to do all the dirty work. Frederick R. Denton -was busy in the “Board Room”—the Stock Exchange—all day, executing -orders, keeping watch over the market behavior of the stocks with which -the firm was identified, and from time to time hearing things not meant -for his ears, being the truth regarding Wilson & Graves. But Fullerton -F. Colwell had to do everything—in the stock market and in the office. -He conducted the manipulation of the Wilson & Graves stocks, took charge -of the un-nefarious part of the numerous pools formed by the firm’s -customers—Mr. Graves attending to the other details—and had a hand in -the actual management of various corporations. Also, he conferred with a -dozen people daily—chiefly “big people,” in Wall Street parlance—who -were about to “put through” stock-market “deals.” He had devoted his -time, which was worth thousands, and his brain, which was worth -millions, to disentangling his careless friend’s affairs, and when it -was all over and every claim adjusted, and he had refused the executor’s -fees to which he was entitled, it was found that poor Harry Hunt’s -estate not only was free from debt, but consisted of $38,000 in cash, -deposited in the Trolleyman’s Trust Company, subject to Mrs. Hunt’s -order, and drawing interest at the rate of 2½ per cent per annum. He had -done his work wonderfully well, and, in addition to the cash, the widow -owned an unencumbered house Harry had given her in his lifetime. - -Not long after the settlement of the estate Mrs. Hunt called at his -office. It was a very busy day. The bears were misbehaving—and -misbehaving mighty successfully. Alabama Coal & Iron—the firm’s great -specialty—was under heavy fire from “Sam” Sharpe’s Long Tom as well as -from the room-traders’ Maxims. All that Colwell could do was to instruct -Denton, who was on the ground, to “support” _Ala. C. & I._ sufficiently -to discourage the enemy, and not enough to acquire the company’s entire -capital stock. He was himself at that moment practising that peculiar -form of financial dissimulation which amounts to singing blithely at the -top of your voice when your beloved sackful of gold has been ripped by -bear-paws and the coins are pouring out through the rent. Every -quotation was of importance; a half inch of tape might contain an epic -of disaster. It was not wise to fail to read every printed character. - -“Good morning, Mr. Colwell.” - -He ceased to pass the tape through his fingers, and turned quickly, -almost apprehensively, for a woman’s voice was not heard with pleasure -at an hour of the day when distractions were undesirable. - -“Ah, good morning, Mrs. Hunt,” he said, very politely. “I am very glad -indeed to see you. And how do you do?” He shook hands, and led her, a -bit ceremoniously, to a huge armchair. His manners endeared him even to -the big Wall Street operators, who were chiefly interested in the terse -speech of the ticker. - -“Of course, you are very well, Mrs. Hunt. Don’t tell me you are not.” - -“Ye-es,” hesitatingly. “As well as I can hope to be since—since——” - -“Time alone, dear Mrs. Hunt, can help us. You must be very brave. It is -what he would have liked.” - -“Yes, I know,” she sighed. “I suppose I must.” - -There was a silence. He stood by, deferentially sympathetic. - -“_Ticky-ticky-ticky-tick_,” said the ticker. - -What did it mean, in figures? Reduced to dollars and cents, what did the -last three brassy taps say? Perhaps the bears were storming the Alabama -Coal & Iron intrenchments of “scaled buying orders”; perhaps Colwell’s -trusted lieutenant, Fred Denton, had repulsed the enemy. Who was -winning? A spasm, as of pain, passed over Mr. Fullerton F. Colwell’s -grave face. But the next moment he said to her, slightly -conscience-strickenly, as if he reproached himself for thinking of the -stock market in her presence: “You must not permit yourself to brood, -Mrs. Hunt. You know what I thought of Harry, and I need not tell you how -glad I shall be to do what I may, for his sake, Mrs. Hunt, and for your -own.” - -“_Ticky-ticky-ticky-tick!_” repeated the ticker. - -To avoid listening to the voluble little machine, he went on: “Believe -me, Mrs. Hunt, I shall be only too glad to serve you.” - -“You are so kind, Mr. Colwell,” murmured the widow; and after a pause: -“I came to see you about that money.” - -“Yes?” - -“They tell me in the trust company that if I leave the money there -without touching it I’ll make $79 a month.” - -“Let me see; yes; that is about what you may expect.” - -“Well, Mr. Colwell, I can’t live on that. Willie’s school costs me $50, -and then there’s Edith’s clothes,” she went on, with an air which -implied that as for herself she wouldn’t care at all. “You see, he was -so indulgent, and they are used to so much. Of course, it’s a blessing -we have the house; but taxes take up so much; and—isn’t there some way -of investing the money so it could bring more?” - -“I might buy some bonds for you. But for your principal to be absolutely -safe at all times, you will have to invest in very high-grade -securities, which will return to you about 3½ per cent. That would mean, -let’s see, $110 a month.” - -“And Harry spent $10,000 a year,” she murmured, complainingly. - -“Harry was always—er—rather extravagant.” - -“Well, I’m glad he enjoyed himself while he lived,” she said, quickly. -Then, after a pause: “And, Mr. Colwell, if I should get tired of the -bonds, could I always get my money back?” - -“You could always find a ready market for them. You might sell them for -a little more or for a little less than you paid.” - -“I shouldn’t like to sell them,” she said, with a business air, “for -less than I paid. What would be the sense?” - -“You are right, Mrs. Hunt,” he said, encouragingly. “It wouldn’t be very -profitable, would it?” - -“_Ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky-tick!_” said the ticker. It was -whirring away at a furious rate. Its story is always interesting when it -is busy. And Colwell had not looked at the tape in fully five minutes! - -“Couldn’t you buy something for me, Mr. Colwell, that when I came to -sell it I could get more than it cost me?” - -“No man can guarantee that, Mrs. Hunt.” - -“I shouldn’t like to lose the little I have,” she said, hastily. - -“Oh, there is no danger of that. If you will give me a check for -$35,000, leaving $3,000 with the trust company for emergencies, I shall -buy some bonds which I feel reasonably certain will advance in price -within a few months.” - -“_Ticky-ticky-ticky-tick_,” interrupted the ticker. In some inexplicable -way it seemed to him that the brassy sound had an ominous ring, so he -added: “But you will have to let me know promptly, Mrs. Hunt. The stock -market, you see, is not a polite institution. It waits for none, not -even for your sex.” - -“Gracious me, must I take the money out of the bank to-day and bring it -to you?” - -“A check will do.” He began to drum on the desk nervously with his -fingers, but ceased abruptly as he became aware of it. - -“Very well, I’ll send it to you to-day. I know you’re very busy, so I -won’t keep you any longer. And you’ll buy good, cheap bonds for me?” - -“Yes, Mrs. Hunt.” - -“There’s no danger of losing, is there, Mr. Colwell?” - -“None whatever. I have bought some for Mrs. Colwell, and I would not run -the slightest risk. You need have no fear about them.” - -“It’s exceedingly kind of you, Mr. Colwell. I am more grateful than I -can say. I—I——” - -“The way to please me is not to mention it, Mrs. Hunt. I am going to try -to make some money for you, so that you can at least double the income -from the trust company.” - -“Thanks, ever so much. Of course, I know you are thoroughly familiar -with such things. But I’ve heard so much about the money everybody loses -in Wall Street that I was half afraid.” - -“Not when you buy good bonds, Mrs. Hunt.” - -“Good morning, Mr. Colwell.” - -“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt. Remember, whenever I may be of service you are -to let me know immediately.” - -“Oh, thank you, so much, Mr. Colwell. Good morning.” - -“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt.” - -Mrs. Hunt sent him a check for $35,000, and Colwell bought 100 five-per -cent gold bonds of the Manhattan Electric Light, Heat & Power Company, -paying 96 for them. - -“These bonds,” he wrote to her, “will surely advance in price, and when -they touch a good figure I shall sell a part, and keep the balance for -you as an investment. The operation is partly speculative, but I assure -you the money is safe. You will have an opportunity to increase your -original capital and your entire funds will then be invested in these -same bonds—Manhattan Electric 5s—as many as the money will buy. I hope -within six months to secure for you an income of twice as much as you -have been receiving from the trust company.” - -The next morning she called at his office. - -“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt. I trust you are well.” - -“Good morning, Mr. Colwell. I know I am an awful bother to you, but——” - -“You are greatly mistaken, Mrs. Hunt.” - -“You are very kind. You see, I don’t exactly understand about those -bonds. I thought you could tell me. I’m so stupid,” archly. - -“I won’t have you prevaricate about yourself, Mrs. Hunt. Now, you gave -me $35,000, didn’t you?” - -“Yes.” Her tone indicated that she granted that much and nothing more. - -“Well, I opened an account for you with our firm. You were credited with -the amount. I then gave an order to buy one hundred bonds of $1,000 -each. We paid 96 for them.” - -“I don’t follow you quite, Mr. Colwell. I told you”—another arch -smile—“I was so stupid!” - -“It means that for each $1,000–bond $960 was paid. It brought the total -up to $96,000.” - -“But I only had $35,000 to begin with. You don’t mean I’ve made that -much, do you?” - -“Not yet, Mrs. Hunt. You put in $35,000; that was your margin, you know; -and we put in the other $61,000 and kept the bonds as security. We owe -you $35,000, and you owe us $61,000, and——” - -“But—I know you’ll laugh at me, Mr. Colwell—but I really can’t help -thinking it’s something like the poor people you read about, who -mortgage their houses, and they go on, and the first thing you know some -real-estate agent owns the house and you have nothing. I have a friend, -Mrs. Stilwell, who lost hers that way,” she finished, corroboratively. - -“This is not a similar case, exactly. The reason why you use a margin is -that you can do much more with the money that way than if you bought -outright. It protects your broker against a depreciation in the security -purchased, which is all he wants. In this case you theoretically owe us -$61,000, but the bonds are in your name, and they are worth $96,000, so -that if you want to pay us back, all you have to do is to order us to -sell the bonds, return the money we have advanced, and keep the balance -of your margin; that is, of your original sum.” - -“I don’t understand why I should owe the firm. I shouldn’t mind so much -owing you, because I know you’d never take advantage of my ignorance of -business matters. But I’ve never met Mr. Wilson nor Mr. Graves. I don’t -even know how they look.” - -“But you know me,” said Mr. Colwell, with patient courtesy. - -“Oh, it isn’t that I’m afraid of being cheated, Mr. Colwell,” she said -hastily and reassuringly; “but I don’t wish to be under obligations to -any one, particularly utter strangers; though, of course, if you say it -is all right, I am satisfied.” - -“My dear Mrs. Hunt, don’t worry about this matter. We bought these bonds -at 96. If the price should advance to 110, as I think it will, then you -can sell three fifths for $66,000, pay us back $61,000, and keep $5,000 -for emergencies in savings banks drawing 4 per cent interest, and have -in addition 40 bonds which will pay you $2,000 a year.” - -“That would be lovely. And the bonds are now 96?” - -“Yes; you will always find the price in the financial page of the -newspapers, where it says BONDS. Look for _Man. Elec. 5s_,” and he -showed her. - -“Oh, thanks, ever so much. Of course, I am a great bother, I know——” - -“You are nothing of the kind, Mrs. Hunt. I’m only too glad to be of the -slightest use to you.” - -Mr. Colwell, busy with several important deals, did not follow closely -the fluctuations in the price of Manhattan Electric Light, Heat & Power -Company 5s. The fact that there had been any change at all was made -clear to him by Mrs. Hunt. She called a few days after her first visit, -with perturbation written large on her face. Also, she wore the -semi-resolute look of a person who expects to hear unacceptable excuses. - -“Good morning, Mr. Colwell.” - -“How do you do, Mrs. Hunt? Well, I hope.” - -“Oh, I am well enough. I wish I could say as much for my financial -matters.” She had acquired the phrase from the financial reports which -she had taken to reading religiously every day. - -“Why, how is that?” - -“They are 95 now,” she said, a trifle accusingly. - -“Who are _they_, pray, Mrs. Hunt?” in surprise. - -“The bonds. I saw it in last night’s paper.” - -Mr. Colwell smiled. Mrs. Hunt almost became indignant at his levity. - -“Don’t let that worry you, Mrs. Hunt. The bonds are all right. The -market is a trifle dull; that’s all.” - -“A friend,” she said, very slowly, “who knows all about Wall Street, -told me last night that it made a difference of $1,000 to me.” - -“So it does, in a way; that is, if you tried to sell your bonds. But as -you are not going to do so until they show you a handsome profit, you -need not worry. Don’t be concerned about the matter, I beg of you. When -the time comes for you to sell the bonds I’ll let you know. Never mind -if the price goes off a point or two. You are amply protected. Even if -there should be a panic I’ll see that you are not sold out, no matter -how low the price goes. You are not to worry about it; in fact, you are -not to think about it at all.” - -“Oh, thanks, ever so much, Mr. Colwell. I didn’t sleep a wink last -night. But I knew——” - -A clerk came in with some stock certificates and stopped short. He -wanted Mr. Colwell’s signature in a hurry, and at the same time dared -not interrupt. Mrs. Hunt thereupon rose and said: “Well, I won’t take up -any more of your time. Good morning, Mr. Colwell. Thanks ever so much.” - -“Don’t mention it, Mrs. Hunt. Good morning. You are going to do very -well with those bonds if you only have patience.” - -“Oh, I’ll be patient now that I know all about it; yes, indeed. And I -hope your prophecy will be fulfilled. Good morning, Mr. Colwell.” - -Little by little the bonds continued to decline. The syndicate in charge -was not ready to move them. But Mrs. Hunt’s unnamed friend—her Cousin -Emily’s husband—who was employed in an up-town bank, did not know all -the particulars of that deal. He knew the Street in the abstract, and -had accordingly implanted the seed of insomnia in her quaking soul. -Then, as he saw values decline, he did his best to make the seed grow, -fertilizing a naturally rich soil with ominous hints and headshakings -and with phrases that made her firmly believe he was gradually and -considerately preparing her for the worst. On the third day of her agony -Mrs. Hunt walked into Colwell’s office. Her face was pale and she looked -distressed. Mr. Colwell sighed involuntarily—a scarcely perceptible and -not very impolite sigh—and said: “Good morning, Mrs. Hunt.” - -She nodded gravely and, with a little gasp, said, tremulously: “The -bonds!” - -“Yes? What about them?” - -She gasped again, and said: “The p-p-papers!” - -“What do you mean, Mrs. Hunt?” - -She dropped into a chair nervelessly, as if exhausted. After a pause she -said: “It’s in all the papers. I thought the _Herald_ might be mistaken, -so I bought the _Tribune_ and the _Times_ and the _Sun_. But no. It was -the same in all. It was,” she added, tragically, “93!” - -“Yes?” he said, smilingly. - -The smile did not reassure her; it irritated her and aroused her -suspicions. By him, of all men, should her insomnia be deemed no -laughing matter. - -“Doesn’t that mean a loss of $3,000?” she asked. There was a -deny-it-if-you-dare inflection in her voice of which she was not -conscious. Her cousin’s husband had been a careful gardener. - -“No, because you are not going to sell your bonds at 93, but at 110, or -thereabouts.” - -“But if I did want to sell the bonds now, wouldn’t I lose $3,000?” she -queried, challengingly. Then she hastened to answer herself: “Of course -I would, Mr. Colwell. Even I can tell that.” - -“You certainly would, Mrs. Hunt; but——” - -“I knew I was right,” with irrepressible triumph. - -“But you are not going to sell the bonds.” - -“Of course, I don’t want to, because I can’t afford to lose any money, -much less $3,000. But I don’t see how I can help losing it. I was warned -from the first,” she said, as if that made it worse. “I certainly had no -business to risk my all.” She had waived the right to blame some one -else, and there was something consciously just and judicial about her -attitude that was eloquent. Mr. Colwell was moved by it. - -“You can have your money back, Mrs. Hunt, if you wish it,” he told her, -quite unprofessionally. “You seem to worry about it so much.” - -“Oh, I am not worrying, exactly; only, I do wish I hadn’t bought—I mean, -the money was so safe in the Trolleyman’s Trust Company, that I can’t -help thinking I might just as well have let it stay where it was, even -if it didn’t bring me in so much. But, of course, if you want me to -leave it here,” she said, very slowly to give him every opportunity to -contradict her, “of course, I’ll do just as you say.” - -“My dear Mrs. Hunt,” Colwell said, very politely, “my only desire is to -please you and to help you. When you buy bonds you must be prepared to -be patient. It may take months before you will be able to sell yours at -a profit, and I don’t know how low the price will go in the meantime. -Nobody can tell you that, because nobody knows. But it need make no -difference to you whether the bonds go to 90, or even to 85, which is -unlikely.” - -“Why, how can you say so, Mr. Colwell? If the bonds go to 90, I’ll lose -$6,000–-my friend said it was one thousand for every number down. And at -85 that would be”—counting on her fingers—“eleven numbers, that is, -_eleven—thousand—dollars_!” And she gazed at him, awe-strickenly, -reproachfully. “How _can_ you say it would make no difference, Mr. -Colwell?” - -Mr. Colwell fiercely hated the unnamed “friend,” who had told her so -little and yet so much. But he said to her, mildly: “I thought that I -had explained all that to you. It might hurt a weak speculator if the -bonds declined ten points, though such a decline is utterly improbable. -But it won’t affect you in the slightest, since, having an ample margin, -you would not be forced to sell. You would simply hold on until the -price rose again. Let me illustrate. Supposing your house cost $10,000, -and——” - -“Harry paid $32,000,” she said, correctingly. On second thought she -smiled, in order to let him see that she knew her interpolation was -irrelevant. But he might as well know the actual cost. - -“Very well,” he said, good-humoredly, “we’ll say $32,000, which was also -the price of every other house in that block. And suppose that, owing to -some accident, or for any reason whatever, nobody could be found to pay -more than $25,000 for one of the houses, and three or four of your -neighbors sold theirs at that price. But you wouldn’t, because you knew -that in the fall, when everybody came back to town, you would find -plenty of people who’d give you $50,000 for your house; you wouldn’t -sell it for $25,000, and you wouldn’t worry. Would you, now?” he -finished, cheerfully. - -“No,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t worry. But,” hesitatingly, for, after -all, she felt the awkwardness of her position, “I wish I had the money -instead of the bonds.” And she added, self-defensively: “I haven’t slept -a wink for three nights thinking about this.” - -The thought of his coming emancipation cheered Mr. Colwell immensely. -“Your wish shall be gratified, Mrs. Hunt. Why didn’t you ask me before, -if you felt that way?” he said, in mild reproach. And he summoned a -clerk. - -“Make out a check for $35,000 payable to Mrs. Rose Hunt, and transfer -the 100 Manhattan Electric Light 5s to my personal account.” - -He gave her the check and told her: “Here is the money. I am very sorry -that I unwittingly caused you some anxiety. But all’s well that ends -well. Any time that I can be of service to you—Not at all. Don’t thank -me, please; no. Good morning.” - -But he did not tell her that by taking over her account he paid $96,000 -for bonds he could have bought in the open market for $93,000. He was -the politest man in Wall Street; and, after all, he had known Hunt for -many years. - -A week later Manhattan Electric 5–per cent bonds sold at 96 again. Mrs. -Hunt called on him. It was noon, and she evidently had spent the morning -mustering up courage for the visit. They greeted one another, she -embarrassed and he courteous and kindly as usual. - -“Mr. Colwell, you still have those bonds, haven’t you?” - -“Why, yes.” - -“I—I think I’d like to take them back.” - -“Certainly, Mrs. Hunt. I’ll find out how much they are selling for.” He -summoned a clerk to get a quotation on Manhattan Electric 5s. The clerk -telephoned to one of their bond-specialists, and learned that the bonds -could be bought at 96½. He reported to Mr. Colwell, and Mr. Colwell told -Mrs. Hunt, adding: “So you see they are practically where they were when -you bought them before.” - -She hesitated. “I—I—didn’t you buy them from me at 93? I’d like to buy -them back at the same price I sold them to you.” - -“No, Mrs. Hunt,” he said; “I bought them from you at 96.” - -“But the price was 93.” And she added, corroboratively: “Don’t you -remember it was in all the papers?” - -“Yes, but I gave you back exactly the same amount that I received from -you, and I had the bonds transferred to my account. They stand on our -books as having cost me 96.” - -“But couldn’t you let me have them at 93?” she persisted. - -“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Hunt, but I don’t see how I could. If you buy them -in the open market now, you will be in exactly the same position as -before you sold them, and you will make a great deal of money, because -they are going up now. Let me buy them for you at 96½.” - -“At 93, you mean,” with a tentative smile. - -“At whatever price they may be selling for,” he corrected, patiently. - -“Why did you let me sell them, Mr. Colwell?” she asked, plaintively. - -“But, my dear madam, if you buy them now, you will be no worse off than -if you had kept the original lot.” - -“Well, I don’t see why it is that I have to pay 96½ now for the very -same bonds I sold last Tuesday at 93. If it was some other bonds,” she -added, “I wouldn’t mind so much.” - -“My dear Mrs. Hunt, it makes no difference which bonds you hold. They -have all risen in price, yours and mine and everybody’s; your lot was -the same as any other lot. You see that, don’t you?” - -“Ye-es; but——” - -“Well, then, you are exactly where you were before you bought any. -You’ve lost nothing, because you received your money back intact.” - -“I’m willing to buy them,” she said resolutely, “at 93.” - -“Mrs. Hunt, I wish I could buy them for you at that price. But there are -none for sale cheaper than 96½.” - -“Oh, why did I let you sell my bonds!” she said, disconsolately. - -“Well, you worried so much because they had declined that——” - -“Yes, but I didn’t know anything about business matters. You know I -didn’t, Mr. Colwell,” she finished, accusingly. - -He smiled in his good-natured way. “Shall I buy the bonds for you?” he -asked. He knew the plans of the syndicate in charge, and being sure the -bonds would advance, he thought she might as well share in the profits. -At heart he felt sorry for her. - -She smiled back. “Yes,” she told him, “at 93.” It did not seem right to -her, notwithstanding his explanations, that she should pay 96½ for them, -when the price a few days ago was 93. - -“But how can I, if they are 96½?” - -“Mr. Colwell, it is 93 or nothing.” She was almost pale at her own -boldness. It really seemed to her as if the price had only been waiting -for her to sell out in order to advance. And though she wanted the -bonds, she did not feel like yielding. - -“Then I very much fear it will have to be nothing.” - -“Er—good morning, Mr. Colwell,” on the verge of tears. - -“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt.” And before he knew it, forgetting all that -had gone before, he added: “Should you change your mind, I should be -glad to——” - -“I know I wouldn’t pay more than 93 if I lived to be a thousand years.” -She looked expectantly at him, to see if he had repented, and she -smiled—the smile that is a woman’s last resort, that says, almost -articulately: “I know you will, of course, do as I ask. My question is -only a formality. I know your nobility, and I fear not.” But he only -bowed her out, very politely. - -On the Stock Exchange the price of _Man. Elec. L. H. & P. Co. 5s_ rose -steadily. Mrs. Hunt, too indignant to feel lachrymose, discussed the -subject with her Cousin Emily and her husband. Emily was very much -interested. Between her and Mrs. Hunt they forced the poor man to make -strange admissions, and, deliberately ignoring his feeble protests, they -worked themselves up to the point of believing that, while it would be -merely generous of Mr. Colwell to let his friend’s widow have the bonds -at 93, it would be only his obvious duty to let her have them at 96½. -The moment they reached this decision Mrs. Hunt knew how to act. And the -more she thought the more indignant she became. The next morning she -called on her late husband’s executor and friend. - -Her face wore the look often seen on those ardent souls who think their -sacred and inalienable rights have been trampled upon by the tyrant Man, -but who at the same time feel certain the hour of retribution is near. - -“Good morning, Mr. Colwell. I came to find out exactly what you propose -to do about my bonds.” Her voice conveyed the impression that she -expected violent opposition, perhaps even bad language, from him. - -“Good morning, Mrs. Hunt. Why, what do you mean?” - -His affected ignorance deepened the lines on her face. Instead of -bluster he was using _finesse_! - -“I think you ought to know, Mr. Colwell,” she said, meaningly. - -“Well, I really don’t. I remember you wouldn’t heed my advice when I -told you not to sell out, and again when I advised you to buy them -back.” - -“Yes, at 96½,” she burst out, indignantly. - -“Well, if you had, you would to-day have a profit of over $7,000.” - -“And whose fault is it that I haven’t?” She paused for a reply. -Receiving none, she went on: “But never mind; I have decided to accept -your offer,” very bitterly, as if a poor widow could not afford to be a -chooser; “I’ll take those bonds at 96½.” And she added, under her -breath: “Although it really ought to be 93.” - -“But, Mrs. Hunt,” said Colwell, in measureless astonishment, “you can’t -do that, you know. You wouldn’t buy them when I wanted you to, and I -can’t buy them for you now at 96½. Really, you ought to see that.” - -Cousin Emily and she had gone over a dozen imaginary interviews with Mr. -Colwell—of varying degrees of storminess—the night before, and they had, -in an idle moment, and not because they really expected it, represented -Mr. Colwell as taking that identical stand. Mrs. Hunt was, accordingly, -prepared to show both that she knew her moral and technical rights, and -that she was ready to resist any attempt to ignore them. So she said, in -a voice so ferociously calm that it should have warned any guilty man: -“Mr. Colwell, will you answer me one question?” - -“A thousand, Mrs. Hunt, with pleasure.” - -“No; only one. Have you kept the bonds that I bought, or have you not?” - -“What difference does that make, Mrs. Hunt?” - -He evaded the answer! - -“Yes or no, please. Have you, or have you not, those same identical -bonds?” - -“Yes; I have. But——” - -“And to whom do those bonds belong, by rights?” She was still pale, but -resolute. - -“To me, certainly.” - -“To _you_, Mr. Colwell?” She smiled. And in her smile were a thousand -feelings; but not mirth. - -“Yes, Mrs. Hunt, to me.” - -“And do you propose to keep them?” - -“I certainly do.” - -“Not even if I pay 96½ will you give them to me?” - -“Mrs. Hunt,” Colwell said with warmth “when I took those bonds off your -hands at 93 it represented a loss on paper of $3,000——” - -She smiled in pity—pity for his judgment in thinking her so hopelessly -stupid. - -“And when you wanted me to sell them back to you at 93 after they had -risen to 96½, if I had done as you wished, it would have meant an actual -loss of $3,000 to me.” - -Again she smiled—the same smile, only the pity was now mingled with -rising indignation. - -“For Harry’s sake I was willing to pocket the first loss, in order that -you might not worry. But I didn’t see why I should make you a present of -$3,000,” he said, very quietly. - -“I never asked you to do it,” she retorted, hotly. - -“If you had lost any money through my fault, it would have been -different. But you had your original capital unimpaired. You had nothing -to lose, if you bought back the same bonds at practically the same -price. Now you come and ask me to sell you the bonds at 96½ that are -selling in the market for 104, as a reward, I suppose, for your refusal -to take my advice.” - -“Mr. Colwell, you take advantage of my position to insult me. And Harry -trusted you so much! But let me tell you that I am not going to let you -do just as you please. No doubt you would like to have me go home and -forget how you’ve acted toward me. But I am going to consult a lawyer, -and see if I am to be treated this way by a _friend_ of my husband’s. -You’ve made a mistake, Mr. Colwell.” - -“Yes, madam, I certainly have. And, in order to avoid making any more, -you will oblige me greatly by never again calling at this office. By all -means consult a lawyer. Good morning, madam,” said the politest man in -Wall Street. - -“We’ll see,” was all she said; and she left the room. - -Colwell paced up and down his office nervously. It was seldom that he -allowed himself to lose his temper, and he did not like it. The ticker -whirred away excitedly, and in an absent-minded, half-disgusted way he -glanced sideways at it. - -“_Man. Elec. 5s, 106⅛_,” he read on the tape. - - - - - THE BREAK IN TURPENTINE - - -In the beginning of the beginning the distillers of turpentine carried -competition to the quarrelling point. Then they carried the quarrel to -the point of silence, which was most to be feared, for it meant that no -time was to be wasted in words. All were losing money; but each hoped -that the others were losing more, proportionately, and therefore would -go under all the sooner. The survivors thought they could manage to keep -on surviving, for on what twelve would starve four could feast. - -It is seen periodically in the United States: an industry apparently -suffering from suicidal mania. It is incomprehensible, inexplicable, -though mediocrities mutter: “Over-production!” and shake their heads -complacently, proud of having diagnosed the trouble. Here was the -turpentine business, once great and lucrative, now ruin-producing; -formerly affording a comfortable livelihood to many thousands and now -giving ever-diminishing wages to ever-diminishing numbers. - -It was Mr. Alfred Neustadt, a banker in a famous turpentine district, -who first called his brother-in-law’s attention to the pitiable sight. -Mr. Jacob Greenbaum’s soul thrilled during Neustadt’s recital. He -perceived golden possibilities that dazzled him: He decided to form a -Turpentine Trust. - -First he bought for a song all the bankrupt stills; seven of them. Later -on, in his scheme of trust creation, these self-same distilleries would -be turned over to the “octopus,” at nice fat figures, as Greenbaum put -it, self-admiringly, to his brother-in-law. Then he secured options on -nine others, the tired-unto-death plants. In this way he was able to -control “a large productive capacity” at an expenditure positively -marvellous—it was so small. It was also in his brother-in-law’s name. -Then the banking house of Greenbaum, Lazarus & Co. stepped in, -interested accomplices, duped or coerced into selling enough other -distillers to assure success, cajoled the more stubborn, wheedled the -more credulous, gave way gracefully to the shrewder and gathered them -all into the fold. The American Turpentine Company was formed, with a -capital stock of $30,000,000 or 300,000 shares at $100 each. The cash -needed, to pay Mr. Greenbaum, Neustadt and others who sold their plants -for “part cash and part stock,” was provided by an issue of $25,000,000 -of 6 per cent bonds, underwritten by a syndicate composed of Greenbaum, -Lazarus & Co., I. & S. Wechsler, Morris Steinfelder’s Sons, Reis & -Stern, Kohn, Fischel & Co., Silberman & Lindheim, Rosenthal, Shaffran & -Co. and Zeman Bros. - -They were men who never “speculated”; sometimes they “conducted -financial operations.” They had shears, not fleeces. - -The prospectus of the “Trust” was a masterpiece of persuasiveness and -vagueness, of slim statistics and alluring generalities. In due course -of time the public subscribed for the greater part of the $25,000,000 of -bonds, and both bonds and stock were “listed” on the New York Stock -Exchange—that is, they were placed on the list of securities which -members may buy or sell on the “floor” of the Exchange. - -Tabularly expressed, the syndicate’s operations were as follows: - - Authorized stock $30,000,000 - Authorized bonds 25,000,000 - ___________ - Total $55,000,000 - Actual worth of property 12,800,000 - ___________ - _Aqua Pura_ $42,200,000 - - Paid to owners for 41 distilleries representing 90 per cent of the - turpentine production (and 121 per cent of the consumption!) of - the United States: - - Cash from bond sales $8,975,983 - Bonds 12,000,000 - Stock 18,249,800 - ___________ - Total $39,225,783 - Syndicate’s commission, stock 12,988,500 - Retained in Co.’s treasury, unissued 2,000,000 - Expenses and discounts on bonds, etc. 785,717 - ___________ - Total $55,000,000 - -These figures were not for publication. They told the exact truth. - -The public knew nothing of the company’s earning capacity, save a few -tentative figures from the prospectus, which was a sort of financial -gospel according to Greenbaum, but which did not create fanatical -devotees among investors. The stock, unlike the Kipling ship, had not -found itself. It was not market-proven, not seasoned; no one knew how -much dependence to put on it; wherefore the banks would not take it as -collateral security on loans and wherefore the “speculative community” -(as the newspapers call the stock gamblers) would not touch it, since in -a pinch it might prove utterly unvendible. It remained for the syndicate -to make a “market” for it, to develop such a condition of affairs that -anyone at any time could, without overmuch difficulty and without -causing over-great fluctuations, sell readily American Turpentine -Company stock. The syndicate would have to earn its commission. - -All the manufacturers who had received stock in part payment were told -most impressively by Mr. Greenbaum not to sell their holdings under any -circumstances at any price below $75 a share. Not knowing Mr. Greenbaum, -they readily and solemnly promised to obey him. They even permitted -themselves to think, after talking to him, that they would some day -receive $80 per share for all their holdings. This precluded any -untimely “unloading” by the only people outside the syndicate that held -any Turpentine stock at all. - -Mr. Greenbaum took charge of the market conduct of “Turp,” as the tape -called the stock of the American Turpentine Company. At first, the price -was marked up by means of “matched” orders—preconcerted and therefore -not bona fide transactions. Mr. Greenbaum told one of his brokers to -sell 1,000 shares of “Turp” to another of his brokers and shortly -afterwards the second broker sold the same 1,000 shares to a third, by -pre-arrangement—this being the matching process—with the result that the -tape recorded transactions of 2,000 shares. After the “matching” had -gone on for some time, readers of the tape were supposed to imagine that -the stock was legitimately active and strong—two facts which in turn -were supposed to whet the buying appetite. It was against the rule of -the Exchange to “match” orders, but how could convictions be secured? - -“Turp” began at 25 and as the syndicate had all the stock in the market, -it was easily manipulated upward to 35. Every day, many thousands of -shares, according to the Stock Exchange’s official records, “changed -hands”—from Greenbaum’s right to his left and back again—and the price -rose steadily. But something was absent. The manipulation was not -convincing. It did not make the general public nibble. The only buyers -were the “room traders,” that is, the professional stock gamblers who -were members of the Exchange and speculated for themselves exclusively; -and those customers of the commission houses who, because they were -bound to speculate daily or die and because they studied the -ticker-ribbon so assiduously, were known by the generic name of -“tape-worms.” These gentry, in and out of the Exchange, provided the -tape in its curious language foretold a rise, would buy anything—from -capitalized impudence, as in the case of Back Bay Gas, whose property -was actually worth nil and its capital stock was $100,000,000, up to -Government bonds. - -Now, the room traders and the tape-worms reasoned not illogically that -the “Greenbaum gang” had all the stock and that perforce the “gang” had -to find a market for it; and the only way to do this was by a nice -“bull” or upward movement. When a stock rises and rises and rises the -newspapers are full of pleasant stories about it and the lambs read but -do not run away; they buy on the assumption that, as the stock has -already risen ten points it may rise ten more. This explains why they -make so much money in Wall Street—for the natives. - -Greenbaum and his associates were exceptionally shrewd business men, -thoroughly familiar with Wall Street and its methods, cautious yet bold, -far-seeing yet eminently of the day. They were practical financiers. -They marked up the price of “Turp” ten points; but they could not arouse -public interest in it so that people would buy it. Indeed, at the end of -three weeks, during which the “Street” had been flooded with impressive -advice, printed and spoken, to buy because the price was going higher, -all they had for their trouble was more stock-–6,000 shares from Ira D. -Keep, a distiller, who sold out at 38 because he needed the money; and -they also were obliged to buy back from the “room traders” at 35 and 36 -and higher, the same stock the “gang” had sold at 30 and 31 and 32 and -34. Then the manipulators had to “support” the stock at the higher -level, that is, they had to keep it from declining, which could be done -only by continuous buying. By doing this the public might imagine there -was considerable merit in a stock which was in such good demand from -intelligent people as to remain firm, notwithstanding its previous -substantial rise. And if somebody wanted “Turp” why shouldn’t the public -want it? The public generally asks itself that question. It is in the -nature of a nibble and rejoices the hearts of the financial anglers. - -Every attempt to sell “Turp” met with failure. At length it was decided -to allow the price to sink back to an “invitingly low” level. It was -done. But still the invited public refused to buy. Efforts to encourage -a short interest to over-extend itself unto “squeezable” proportions -failed similarly. The Street was afraid to go “short” of a stock which -was so closely held. The philosophy of short selling is simple; it -really amounts to betting that values will decline. A man who “sells -short” sells what he does not possess, but hopes to buy, later on, at a -lower price. But since he must deliver what he sells he borrows it from -some one else, giving the lender ample security. To “cover” or to “buy -in” is to purchase stock previously sold short. Obviously, it is unwise -to be short of a stock which is held by such a few that it may be -difficult to borrow it. To “squeeze” shorts is to advance the price in -order to force “covering.” This is done when the short interest is large -enough to make it worth while. - -In the course of the next few months, after a series of injudicious -fluctuations which gave to “Turp” a bad name, even as Wall Street names -went, despite glowing accounts of the company’s wonderful business and -after distributing less than 35,000 shares, the members of the -“Turpentine Skindicate,” as it was popularly called, sorrowfully -acknowledged that, while they had skilfully organized the trust and had -done fairly well with the bonds, they certainly were not howling -successes as manipulators. During the following eight months they sold -more stock. They spared not the widow nor the orphan. They even “stuck” -their intimate friends. They had sold for something what had cost them -nothing; it was natural to wish to sell more. - -Now, manipulators of stocks are born, not made. The art is most -difficult, for stocks should be manipulated in such wise that they will -not look manipulated. Anybody can buy stocks or can sell them. But not -every one can sell stocks and at the same time convey the impression -that he is buying them, and that prices therefore must inevitably go -much higher. It requires boldness and consummate judgment, knowledge of -technical stock-market conditions, infinite ingenuity and mental -agility, absolute familiarity with human nature, a careful study of the -curious psychological phenomena of gambling and long experience with the -Wall Street public and with the wonderful imagination of the American -people; to say nothing of knowing thoroughly the various brokers to be -employed, their capabilities, limitations and personal temperaments; -also, their price. - -Adequate manipulative machinery, moreover, can be perfected only with -much toil and patience and money. Professional Wall Street will always -tell you that “the tape tells the story.” The little paper ribbon, -therefore, must be made to tell such stories as the manipulator desires -should be told to the public; he must produce certain effects which -should preserve an appearance of alluring spontaneity and, above all, of -legitimacy and candor; he must be a great artist in mendacity and at the -same time have the superb self-confidence of a grizzly. - -Several members of the syndicate had many of these qualities, but none -had them all. It was decided to put “Turp” stock in the hands of Samuel -Wimbleton Sharpe, the best manipulator Wall Street had ever known. -“Jakey” Greenbaum said he would conduct the negotiations with the great -plunger. - -Sharpe was a financial free-lance, free-booter and free-thinker. He had -made his first fortune in the mining camps of Arizona and finding that -field too narrow had come to New York, where he could gamble to his -heart’s content. He was all the things that an ideal manipulator should -be and several more. He had arrived in New York with a sneer on his lips -and a loaded revolver in his financial hands. The other “big operators” -looked at him in pained astonishment. “I carry my weapons openly,” -Sharpe told them, “and you conceal your dirks. Don’t hurt yourselves -trying to look honest. I never turn my back on such as you.” Of this -encounter was born a hostility that never grew faint. Sharpe had nothing -of his own to unload on anyone else, no property to overcapitalize and -sell to an undiscriminating public by means of artistic lies and his -enemies often did. So they called him a gambler, very bitterly, and he -called them philanthropists, very cheerfully. If he thought a stock was -unduly high he sold it confidently, aggressively, stupendously. If he -thought a stock was too low he bought it boldly, ready to take all the -offerings and bid for more. And once on the march, he might be -temporarily checked, be forced by the enemy to halt for a day or a week -or a month; but inevitably he arrived. And such an arrival! - -And as a manipulator of stock-values he had no equal. On the bull side -he rushed a stock upward so steadily, so boldly and brilliantly, but, -above all, so persuasively, that lesser gamblers almost fought to be -allowed to take it off his hands at incredibly high prices. And when in -the conduct of one of his masterly bear campaigns he saw fit to “hammer” -the market, values melted away as by magic—Satanic magic, the poor lambs -thought. All stocks looked “sick,” looked as though prices would go much -lower; murmurs of worse things to come were in the air, vague, -disquieting, ruin-breeding. The atmosphere of the Street was -supersaturated with apprehension, and the black shadow of Panic brooded -over the Stock Exchange, chilling the little gamblers’ hearts, wiping -out the last of the little gamblers’ margins. And even the presidents of -the solid, conservative banks studied the ticker uneasily in their -offices. - -Greenbaum was promptly admitted to Sharpe’s private office. It was a -half-darkened room, the windows having wire-screens, summer and winter, -in order that prying eyes across the street might not see his visitors -or his confidential brokers, whose identity it was advisable should -remain unknown to the Street. He was walking up and down the room, -pausing from time to time to look at the tape. The ticker is the only -telescope the stock-market general has; it tells him what his forces are -doing and how the enemy is meeting his attacks. Every inch of the tape -is so much ground; every quotation represents so many shots. - -There was something feline in Sharpe’s stealthy, soundless steps, in his -mustaches, in the conformation of his face—broad of forehead and -triangulating chin-ward. In his eyes, too, there was something -tigerish—unmelodramatically cold hearted and coldly curious as they -looked upon Mr. Jacob Greenbaum. Unconsciously the unfanciful -Trust-maker asked himself whether Sharpe’s heart-beats were not ticker -ticks, impassively indicating the pulse of the stock-market. - -“Hallo, Greenbaum.” - -“How do you do, Mr. Sharpe?” quoth the millionaire senior partner of the -firm of Greenbaum, Lazarus & Co. “I hope you are well?” He bent his head -to one side, his eyes full of a caressing scrutiny, as though to -ascertain the exact condition of Sharpe’s health. “Yes, you must be. I -haven’t seen you look so fine in a long time.” - -“You didn’t come up here just to tell me this, Greenbaum, did you? How’s -your Turpentine? Oh!”—with a long whistle—“I see. You want me to go into -it, hey?” And he laughed—a sort of half-chuckle, half-snarl. - -Greenbaum looked at him admiringly; then, with a tentative smile, he -said: “I am discovered!” - -Nearly every American may be met as an equal on the field of Humor. To -jest in business matters of the greatest importance bespoke the national -trait. Moreover, if Sharpe declined, Greenbaum could treat the entire -affair—the proposal and the rejection—as parts of a joke. - -“Well?” said Sharpe, unhumorously. - -“What’s the matter with a pool?” - -“How big?” coldly. - -“Up to the limit.” Again the Trust-maker smiled, uncertainly. - -“You haven’t all the capital stock, I hope.” - -“Well, call it 100,000 shares,” said Greenbaum, more uncertainly and -less jovially. - -“Who is to be in it besides you?” - -“Oh, you know; the same old crowd.” - -“Oh, I know,” mimicked Mr. Sharpe, scornfully, “the same old crowd. You -ought to have come to me before; it will take something to overcome your -own reputations. How much will each take?” - -“We’ll fix that O. K. if you take hold,” answered Greenbaum, laughingly. -“We’ve got over 100,000 shares and we’d rather some one else held some -of it. We ain’t hogs. Ha! Ha!” - -“But, the distillers?” - -“They are in the pool. I’ve got most of their stock in my office. I’ll -see that it does not come out until I say so.” - -There was a pause. Between Sharpe’s eyebrows were two deep lines. At -length, he said: - -“Bring your friends here, this afternoon. Good-by, Greenbaum. And, I -say, Greenbaum.” - -“Yes?” - -“No funny tricks at any stage of the game.” - -“What’s the use of saying such things, Mr. Sharpe?” with an experimental -frown. - -“The use is so you won’t try any. Come at four,” and Mr. Sharpe began to -pace up and down the room. Greenbaum hesitated, still frowning -tentatively; but he said nothing and at length went out. - -Sharpe looked at the tape. “Turp” was 29¼. - -He resumed his restless march back and forth. It was only when the -market “went against him” that Mr. Sharpe did not pace about the room in -the mechanical way of a menagerie animal, glancing everywhere but seeing -nothing. When something unexpected happened in the market Sharpe stood -immobile beside the ticker, because his overworked nerves were -tense—like a tiger into whose cage there enters a strange and eatable -animal. - -On the minute of four there called on Mr. Sharpe the senior partners of -the firms of Greenbaum, Lazarus & Co., I. & S. Wechsler, Morris -Steinfelder’s Sons, Reis & Stern, Kohn, Fischel & Co., Silberman & -Lindheim, Rosenthal, Shaffran & Co., and Zeman Bros. - -They were ushered not into the private office, but into a sumptuously -furnished room, the walls of which were covered with dashing oil -paintings of horses and horse-races. The visitors seated themselves -about a long oaken table. - -Mr. Sharpe appeared at the threshold. - -“How do you do, gentlemen? Don’t move, please; don’t move.” He made no -motion to shake hands with any of them, but Greenbaum came to him and -held out his fat dexter resolutely and Sharpe took it. Then Greenbaum -sat down and said, “We’re here,” and smiled, blandly. - -Sharpe stood at the head of the polished, shining table, and glanced -slowly down the double row of alert faces. His look rested a fraction of -a minute on each man’s eyes—a sharp, half-contemptuous, almost menacing -look that made the older men uncomfortable and the younger resentful. - -“Greenbaum tells me you wish to pool your Turpentine stock and have me -market it for you.” - -All nodded; a few said “yes”; one—Lindheim, _aetat 27_—said, flippantly, -“That’s what.” - -“Very well. What will each man’s proportion be?” - -“I have a list here, Sharpe,” put in Greenbaum. He intentionally omitted -the “Mr.” for effect upon his colleagues. Sharpe noted it, but did not -mind it. - -Sharpe read aloud: - - Greenbaum, Lazarus & Co 38,000 shares. - I. & S. Wechsler 14,000 shares. - Morris Steinfelder’s Sons 14,000 shares. - Reis & Stern 11,000 shares. - Kohn, Fischel & Co 10,000 shares. - Silberman & Lindheim 9,000 shares. - Rosenthal, Shaffran & Co 9,800 shares. - Zeman Bros 8,600 shares. - ______________ - - Total 114,400 shares. - -“Is that correct, gentlemen?” asked Sharpe. - -Greenbaum nodded his head and smiled affably as befitted the holder of -the biggest block. Some said “Yes”; others, “That is correct.” Young -Lindheim said, “That’s what.” The founders of the firm—his uncle and his -father—were dead, and he had inherited the entire business from the two. -His flippancy was not inherited from either. - -“It is understood,” said Sharpe, slowly, “that I am to have complete -charge of the pool, and conduct operations as I see fit. I want no -advice and no questions. If there is any asking to be done, I’ll do it. -If my way does not suit you we’ll call the deal off right here, because -it’s the only way I have. I know my business, and if you know yours -you’ll keep your mouths shut in this office and out of it.” - -No one said a word, not even Lindheim. - -“Each of you will continue to carry the stock for which he has agreed to -stand in the pool. You’ve had it a year and couldn’t sell it, and you -might keep it a few weeks more, until I sell it for you. It must be -subject to my call at one minute’s notice. I’ve looked into the -company’s business, and I think the stock can easily sell at 75 or 80.” - -Something like a gasp of astonishment came from those eight hardened -speculators. Then Greenbaum smiled, knowingly, as if that were his -programme, memorized and spoken by Sharpe. - -“It is also understood,” went on Sharpe, very calmly, “that none of you -has any other stock for sale at any price, excepting his proportion in -this pool, and that proportion, of course, is not to be sold excepting -by me.” No one said a word, and he continued: - -“My profit will be 25 per cent of the pool’s winnings, figuring on the -stock having been put in at 29. The remaining profits will be divided -pro rata among you; the necessary expenses will be shared similarly. I -think that’s all. And, gentlemen, no unloading on the sly—not one -share.” - -“I want you to understand, Mr. Sharpe, that we are not in the habit of—” -began Greenbaum with perfunctory dignity. He felt it was his duty to -remonstrate before his colleagues. - -“Oh, that’s all right, Greenbaum. I know you. That’s why I’m particular. -We’ve all been in Wall Street more than a month or two. I simply said, -‘No shenanigan.’ And, Greenbaum,” he added, very distinctly, while his -eyes took on that curious, cold, menacing look, “I mean it, every d——d -word of it. I want the numbers of all your stock-certificates. Excuse -me, gentlemen. I am very busy. Good-afternoon.” - -And that is how the famous bull pool in Turpentine came to be formed. -They thought he might have been nicer, more diplomatic; but as they had -sought him, not he them, they bore with his eccentricities. Each pool -manager had his way, just as there are various kinds of pools. - -“Sam is not half a bad fellow,” Greenbaum told them, as if apologizing -for a dear friend’s weaknesses. “He wants to make out he is a devil of a -cynic, but he’s all right. If you humor him you can make him do -anything. _I_ always let him have his way.” - -On the very next day began the historical advance in Turpentine. It -opened up at 30. The specialists—brokers who made a specialty of dealing -in it—took 16,000 shares, causing an advance to 32⅛. Everybody who had -been “landed” with the shares at higher figures, and had bitterly -regretted it ever since, now began to feel hopeful. As never before a -stock had been manipulated, with intent to deceive and malice prepense, -so did Sharpe manipulate Turpentine stock. The tape told the most -wonderful stories in the world, not the less wonderful because utterly -untrue. Thus, one day the leading commission houses in the Street were -the buyers, which inevitably led to talk of “important developments”; -and the next day brokers identified with certain prominent financiers -took calmly, deliberately, nonchalantly, all the offerings; which -clearly indicated that the aforementioned financiers had acquired a -“controlling interest”—the majority of the stock—of the American -Turpentine Company. And on another day there was a long string of -purchases of “odd” lots—amounts less than 100 shares—by brokers that -usually did business for the Greenbaum syndicate, meaning that friends -of the syndicate had received a “tip” straight from “the inside” and -were buying for investment. - -Then, one fine, sunshiny day, when everybody felt very well and the -general market was particularly firm, the loquacious tape told the -watchful professional gamblers of Wall Street—oh, so plainly!—that there -was “inside realizing”; said, almost articulately to them, that the -people most familiar with the property were unloading. Sharpe was -selling, with intentional clumsiness, stock he had been forced to -accumulate during his bull manipulation—for in order to advance the -price he had to buy much—and he was not averse to conveying such -impressions as would lead to the creation of a short interest, large -enough to make it profitable to “squeeze.” He had too much company on -the bull side. And sure enough the professional gamblers said: “Aha! -They are through with it. The movement is over!” and sold “Turp” short -confidently, for a worthless stock had no business to be selling at $46 -a share. The price yielded and they sold more the next day. But lo, on -the day following, the Board member of a very conservative house went -into the “Turp” crowd and bought it—he did not “bid up” the price at -all, but bought and bought until he had accumulated 20,000 shares, and -the bears became panic-stricken, and rumors of a nearby dividend began -to circulate, and the bears covered their shorts at a loss and “went -long”—bought in the hope of a further rise—and the stock closed at 52. - -And Sharpe reduced very greatly the amount of “Turp” stock he had been -obliged to take for manipulative purposes. So far he was buying more -than he sold. Later he would sell more than he bought. When the demand -exceeds the vendible supply, obviously the price rises; when the supply -for sale exceeds the demand, a fall results. But the average selling -price of a big line may be high enough to make the operation profitable, -even though a decline occurs during the course of the selling. - -For a week “Turp” rested; then it began to rise once more. At 56 and 58 -it became the most active stock of the entire list. Everybody talked -about it. The newspapers began to publish statements of the company’s -wonderful earnings, and the Street began to think that, in common with -other “trusts,” the American Turpentine Company must be a very -prosperous concern. The company at this time developed a habit of -advancing prices a fraction of a cent per gallon every week, so that the -papers could talk of the boom in the turpentine trade. - -At 60 the Street thought there really must be something behind the -movement, for no mere manipulation could put up the price thirty points -in a month’s time, which shows what a wonderful artist Sharpe was. And -people began to look curiously and admiringly and enviously and in many -other ways at “Jakey” Greenbaum and his accomplices, and to accuse them -of having intentionally kept down the price of the stock for a year in -order to “freeze out” the poor, unsophisticated stockholders, and to -“tire out” some of the early buyers, because “Turp,” being “a good -thing,” Greenbaum _et al._ wanted it all for themselves. And Greenbaum -_et al._ smiled guiltily and said nothing, though Jakey winked from time -to time when they spoke to him about it; and old Isidore Wechsler -cultivated a Napoleon III. look of devilish astuteness; and “Bob” -Lindheim became almost dignified; and myopic little Morris Steinfelder -gained 15 pounds and Rosenthal stopped patting everybody on the back, -and mutely invited everybody to pat him on the back. - -Then Sharpe sent for “Jakey,” and on the next day young “Eddie” Lazarus -swaggeringly offered to wager $10,000 against $5,000 that a dividend on -“Turp” stock would be declared during the year. Whereupon the newspapers -of their own accord began to guess how great a dividend would be paid, -and when; and various figures were mentioned in the Board room by -brokers who confided to their hearers that they “got it on the dead q. -t., _straight from the inside_.” And two days later Sharpe’s unsuspected -brokers offered to pay 1¾ per cent for the dividend on 100,000 shares, -said dividend to be declared within sixty days or the money forfeited. -And the stock sold up to 66¾, and the public wanted it. A big, broad -market had been established, in which one could buy or sell the stock -with ease by the tens of thousands of shares. The 114,400 shares, which -at the inception of the movement at the unsalable price of $30 a share -represented a theoretical $3,432,000, now readily vendible at $65 a -share, meant $7,422,000; not half bad for a few weeks’ work. - -And still Sharpe, wonderful man that he was, gave no sign that he was -about to begin unloading. Whereupon the other members of the pool began -to wish he were not quite so greedy. They were satisfied to quit, they -said. The presence of the pool’s stock in their offices began to -irritate them. They knew the vicissitudes of life, the uncertainties of -politics, and of the stock market. Supposing some crazy anarchist blew -up the President of the United States, or the Emperor of Germany were to -insult his grandmother, the market would “break” to pieces, and their -$4,000,000 of paper profits would disappear. They implored, individually -and collectively, Mr. Jacob Greenbaum to call on Sharpe; and Greenbaum, -disregarding a still, small voice that warned him against it, went to -Sharpe’s office, and came out of it, two minutes later, somewhat -flushed, and assured his colleagues one by one that Sharpe was all -right, and that he seemed to know his business. Also, that he was cranky -that day. He always was, added Greenbaum forgivingly, when one of his -horses lost a race. - -The stock fluctuated between 60 and 65. It seemed to be having a resting -spell. But as it had enjoyed these periods of repose on three several -occasions during the rise—at 40 and 48 and 56–-the public became all the -more eager to buy it whenever it fell to 60 or 59, for the Street was -now full of tips that “Turp” would go to par. And such was the public’s -speculative temper and Mr. Sharpe’s good work that disinterested -observers were convinced the stock would surely sell above 90 at the -very least. Mr. Sharpe still bought and sold, but he sold twice as much -as he bought, and the big block he had been obliged to take in the -course of his manipulation diminished. On the next day he hoped to begin -selling the pool stock. - -That very day Mr. Greenbaum, as he returned to his office from his -luncheon, felt well pleased with the meal and therefore with himself and -therefore with everything. He scanned a yard or two of the tape and -smiled. “Turp” was certainly very active and very strong. - -“In such a market,” thought Mr. Greenbaum, “Sharpe can’t possibly tell -he’s getting stock from me. In order to be on the safe side I’m going to -let him have a couple of thousand. Then, should anything happen, I’d be -that much ahead. Ike!” he called to a clerk. - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Sell two—wait; make it 3,000–-no, never mind. Send for Mr. Ed Lazarus.” -And he muttered to himself, with a sub-thrill of pleasure: “I can just -as well as not make it 5,000 shares.” - -“Eddie,” he said to his partner’s son, “give an order to some of the -room traders, say to Willie Schiff, to sell five—er—six—tell him to sell -7,000 shares of Turpentine and to borrow the stock. I am not selling a -share, see?” with a wink. “It’s short selling by him, do you -understand?” - -“Do I? Well, I guess. I’ll fix that part O.K.,” said young Lazarus, -complacently. He thought he would cover Greenbaum’s tracks so well as to -deceive everybody, including that highly disagreeable man, Samuel -Wimbleton Sharpe. He felt so confident, so elated, did the young man, -that when he gave the order to his friend and club-mate, Willie Schiff, -he raised it to 10,000 shares. Greenbaum’s breach of faith had grown -from the relatively small lot of 2,000 shares to five times that amount. -It was to all appearances short stock, and it was duly “borrowed” by -young Schiff. It was advisable that it should so appear. In the first -place no member of the pool could supply the stock which he held, -because Sharpe could trace the selling to the office, as he had the -numbers of the stock certificates. And, again, short selling does not -have the weakening effect that long selling has. When stock is sold -short it is evident that sooner or later the seller will have to buy it -back; that is, a future demand for the stock is assured from this -source, if from no other. Whereas, long stock is that actually held by -some one. - -Isidore Wechsler, who held 14,000 shares, was suffering from a bad liver -the same day that Greenbaum was suffering from nothing at all, not even -a conscience. A famous art collection would be sold at auction that -week, and he felt sure his vulgar friend, “Abe” Wolff, would buy a -couple of exceptionally fine Troyons and a world-famous Corot, merely to -get his name in the papers. - -“‘Turp,’ 62⅞,” said his nephew, who was standing by the ticker. - -Then old Wechsler had an idea. If he sold 2,000 shares of Turpentine at -62 or 63, he would have enough to buy the best ten canvases of the -collection. His name—and the amounts paid—would grace the columns of the -papers. What was 3,000 shares, or even 4,000, when Sharpe had made such -a big, broad market for the stock? - -“Why, I might as well make it 5,000 shares while I’m about it, for -there’s no telling what may happen if Sharpe should overstay his market. -I’ll build a new stable at Westhurst”—his country place—“and call it,” -said old Wechsler to himself, in his peculiar, facetious way so renowned -in Wall Street, “the Turpentine Horse Hotel, in honor of Sharpe.” And so -his 5,000 shares were sold by E. Halford, who had the order from Herzog, -Wertheim & Co., who received it from Wechsler. It was short selling, of -course. - -Total breach of faith, 15,000 shares. - -Now that very evening Bob Lindheim’s extremely handsome wife wanted a -necklace, and wanted it at once; also she wanted it of filbert-sized -diamonds. She had heard her husband speak highly of Sam Sharpe’s -masterly manipulation of Turpentine, and she knew he was “in on the -ground floor.” She read the newspapers, and she always followed the -stock market diligently, for Bob, being young and loving, used to give -her a share in his stock deals from time to time, and she learned to -figure for herself her “paper” or theoretical profits, when there were -any, so that Bob couldn’t have “welched” if he had wished. On this -particular evening she had statistics ready for him, showing how much -money he had made; and she wanted that necklace. She had longed for it -for months. It cost only $17,000. But there was also a lovely bracelet, -diamonds and rubies, and—— - -Lindheim, to his everlasting credit, remonstrated and told her: “Wait -until the pool realizes, sweetheart. I don’t know at what price that -will be, for Sharpe says nothing. But I know we’ll all make something -handsome, and so will you. I’ll give you 500 shares at 30. There!” - -“But I want it now!” she protested, pouting. She was certainly -beautiful, and when she pouted, with her rich, red lips—— - -“Wait a week, dear,” he urged nevertheless. - -“Lend me the money now, and I’ll pay it back to you when you give me -what I make on the deal,” she said, with fine finality. And seeing -hesitation in Bob’s face, she added, solemnly: “Honest, I will, Bob. -I’ll pay you back every cent, this time.” - -“I’ll think about it,” said Bob. He always said it when he had -capitulated, and she knew it, and so she said, magnanimously: “Very -well, dear.” - -Lindheim thought 1,000 shares would do it, so he decided to sell a -thousand the next day, for you can never tell what may happen, and -accidents seldom help the bulls. But as he thought of it in his office -more calmly, more deliberately, away from his wife and from the -influence she exercised over him, it struck him forcibly that it was -wrong to sell 1,000 shares of Turpentine stock. He might as well as not -make it 2,500; and he did. He was really a modest fellow, and very -young. His wife’s cousin sold the stock for him, apparently short. - -Total breach of faith, 17,500 shares. The market stood it well. Sharpe -was certainly a wonderful chap. - -Unfortunately, Morris Steinfelder, Jr., decided to sell 1,500 “Turp,” -and did so. The stock actually rose a half point on his sales. So he -sold another 1,500, and, as a sort of parting shot, 500 shares more. All -this through an unsuspected broker. - -Total breach of faith, 21,000 shares. The market was but slightly -affected. - -Then Louis Reis of Reis & Stern, “Andy” Fischel of Kohn, Fischel & Co., -Hugo Zeman of Zeman Bros., and “Joe” Shaffran of Rosenthal, Shaffran & -Co., all thought they could break their pledges to Sharpe with impunity, -and each sold, to be on the safe side. This last lump figured up as -follows: - - ─────────────┬─────────────┬─────────────┬───────────── - │ Sales First │ Period of │Actual Sales. - │Contemplated.│ Hesitancy. │ - ─────────────┼─────────────┼─────────────┼───────────── - │ Shares. │ Minutes. │ Shares. - Louis Reis │ 1,500│ 3 │ 2,600 - Andy Fischel │ 2,000│ 15 │ 5,000 - Hugo Zeman │ 1,000│ 0 │ 1,000 - Joe Shaffran │ 500│ 1¾ │ 1,800 - ─────────────┴─────────────┴─────────────┴───────────── - -Total breach of faith, 31,400 shares. - -The market did not take it well. Sharpe, endeavoring to realize on the -remainder of his manipulative purchases, found that “some one had been -there before him.” - -An accurate list of the buyers and sellers was sent in every day by his -lieutenants, for all but the most skilful operators invariably betray -themselves when they attempt to sell a big block of stock. He scanned it -very carefully now, and put two and two together; and he made certain -inquiries and put four and four together—four names and four other -names. He saw through the time-worn device of the fictitious short -selling. He knew the only people who would dare sell such a large amount -must be his colleagues. He also was convinced that their breach of faith -was not a concerted effort, because if they had discussed the matter -they would have sold a smaller quantity. He knew where nearly every -share of the stock was. It was his business to know everything about it. - -“Two,” he said to his secretary, “may play at that game.” And he began -to play. - -By seemingly reckless, plunging purchases he started the stock rushing -upward with a vengeance-–63, 64, 65, 66, four points in as many minutes. -The floor of the Stock Exchange was the scene of the wildest excitement. -The market—why, the market was simply Turpentine. Everybody was buying -it, and everybody was wondering how high it would go, Greenbaum and the -other seven included. It looked as if the stock had resumed its -triumphant march to par. - -Then Sharpe called in all the stock his brokers were loaning to the -shorts, and he himself began to borrow it. This, together with the -legitimate requirements of the big short interest, created a demand so -greatly in excess of the supply that Turpentine loaned at a -sixty-fourth, at a thirty-second, at an eighth, and finally at a quarter -premium over night. It meant that the shorts had either to cover or to -pay $25 per diem for the use of each 100 shares of stock they borrowed. -On the 31,400 shares that the syndicate was borrowing it meant an -expense of nearly $8,000 a day; and in addition the stock was rising in -price. The shorts were losing at the rate of many thousands a minute. -There was no telling where the end would be, but it certainly looked -stormy for both the real and the fictitious shorts. - -Mr. Sharpe sent a peremptory message to Greenbaum, Lazarus & Co.; I. & -M. Wechsler; Morris Steinfelder’s Sons; Reis & Stern; Kohn, Fischel & -Co.; Silberman & Lindheim; Rosenthal, Shaffran & Co.; and Zeman Bros. It -was the same message to all: - -“_Send me at once all your Turpentine stock!_” - -There was consternation and dismay, also admiration and -self-congratulation, among the recipients of the message. They would -have to buy back in the open market the stock they had sold a few days -before. It would mean losses on the treasonable transactions of fully a -quarter of a million, but the pool “stood to win” simply fabulous sums, -if Mr. Sharpe did his duty. - -There were some large blocks of stock for sale at 66, but Sharpe’s -brokers cleared the figures with a fierce, irresistible rush, whooping -exultantly. The genuine short interest was simply panic-stricken, and -atop it all there came orders to buy an aggregate of 31,400 -shares—orders from Messrs. Greenbaum, Wechsler, Lindheim, Steinfelder, -Reis, Fischel, Shaffran, and Zeman. The stock rose grandly on their -buying: 4,000 shares at 66; 2,200 at 66⅜; 700 at 67⅝; 1,200 at 68; 3,200 -at 69½; 2,000 at 70; 5,700 at 70½; 1,200 at 72. Total, 31,400 shares -bought in by the “Skindicate.” Total, 31,400 shares sold by Samuel -Wimbleton Sharpe to his own associates in the great Turpentine pool. In -all he found buyers for 41,700 shares that day, but it had taken -purchases of exactly 21,100 to “stampede the shorts” earlier in the day, -and in addition he held 17,800 shares acquired in the course of his bull -manipulation, which had not been disposed of when he discovered the -breach of faith, so that at the day’s close he found himself not only -without a share of stock manipulatively purchased, but “short” for his -personal account of 2,800 shares. - -The newspapers published picturesque accounts of the “Great Day in -Turpentine.” A powerful clique, they said, owned so much of the -stock—had “cornered” it—that they could easily mark up the price to any -figure. They called it a “memorable squeeze.” It was hinted also that -Mr. Sharpe had been on the wrong side of the market, and one paper gave -a wealth of details and statistics in bold, bad type to prove that the -wily bear leader had been caught short of 75,000 shares, and had covered -at a loss of $1,500,000. A newspaper man whose relations with Sharpe -were intimate asked him, very carelessly: “What the deuce caused the -rise in Turpentine?” and Sharpe drawled: “I don’t know for a certainty, -but I rather imagine it was inside buying!” - -On the next day came the second chapter of the big Turpentine deal. Mr. -Sharpe, having received the pool’s 114,400 shares, divided it into three -lots, 40,000 shares, 50,000 shares, and 24,400 shares. The market had -held fairly strong, but the lynx-eyed room traders failed to perceive -the usual “support” in “Turp” and began to sell it in order to make -sure. There was enough commission-house buying and belated -short-covering to keep it moderately steady. Then the room traders -redoubled their efforts to depress it, by selling more than there were -buying orders for; also by selling it cheaper than was warranted by the -legitimate demand for the stock. It was a favorite trick to offer to -sell thousands of shares lower than people were willing to pay, in order -to frighten the timid holders and make them sell; which in turn would -make still others sell, until the movement became general enough to -cause a substantial fall. - -Slowly the price began to yield. All that was needed was a leader. -Whereupon Mr. Sharpe took the first lot of pool stock, 40,000 shares, -and hurled it full at the market. The impact was terrible; the execution -appalling. The market reeled crazily. The stock, which after selling up -to 72¾ had “closed” on the previous day at 71⅞, dropped twenty points -and closed at 54. The newspapers said that the corner was “busted”; that -the “squeeze” was over. Hundreds of people slept ill that night. Scores -did not sleep at all. - -On the next day he fired by volleys 50,000 shares more at the market. -The stock sank to 41¼. Such a break was almost unprecedented. - -The Street asked itself if it were not on the eve of a crash that would -become historic in a district whose chronology is reckoned by big market -movements. - -Greenbaum rushed to Sharpe’s office. The terrible break gave him courage -to do anything. A Wall Street worm will turn when the market misbehaves -itself. - -“What’s the matter?” he asked angrily. “What are you doing to -Turpentine?” - -Sharpe looked him full in the face, but his voice was even and -emotionless as he replied: “Somebody has been selling on us. I don’t -know who. I wish I did. I was afraid I might have to take 100,000 shares -more, so I just sold as much as I could. I’ve marketed most of the -pool’s stock. If it had not been for the jag of stock I struck around 60 -and 62, Turpentine would be selling at 85 or 90 to-day. Come again next -week, Greenbaum; and keep cool. Did you ever know me to fail? Good-by, -Greenbaum; and don’t raise your voice when you speak to me.” - -“This has gone too far,” said Greenbaum, hotly. “You must give me an -explanation or by Heaven I’ll——” - -“Greenbaum,” said Mr. Sharpe, in a listless voice, “don’t get excited. -Good-by, Greenbaum. Be virtuous and you will be happy.” And he resumed -his caged-tiger pacing up and down his office. As by magic, Mr. Sharpe’s -burly private secretary appeared, and said: “This way, Mr. Greenbaum,” -and led the dazed Trust-maker from the office. On his return Sharpe told -him: “There is no need to accuse those fellows of breach of faith. -They’d deny it.” - -The next day Mr. Sharpe simply poured the remaining 25,000 shares of the -pool’s stock on the market as one pours water from a pitcher into a cup. -The bears had it all their own way. The loquacious tape said, ever so -plainly: “This is nothing but inside liquidation, all the more dangerous -and ominous since it is at such low figures and is so urgent in its -character. Heaven alone can tell where it will end; and there is no -telephone communication thither.” - -Everybody was selling because somebody had started a rumor that the -courts had dissolved the company for gross violation of the Anti-Trust -law, and that a receiver had been appointed. Having sold out the last of -the pool’s stock, Mr. Sharpe “took in” at $22 a share the 2,800 shares -which he had put out at $72, a total profit on his small “line” of -$140,000. - -Turpentine stock had declined fifty points in fifteen business hours. It -meant a shrinkage in the market value of the company’s capital stock of -$15,000,000. The shrinkage in the self-esteem of some of the pool was -measurable only in billions. - -Sharpe notified his associates that the pool had completely -realized—_i.e._, had sold out—and that he would be pleased to meet them -at his office on Monday—this was Thursday—at eleven A.M., when he would -have checks and an accounting ready for them. He refused himself to -Greenbaum, Wechsler, Zeman, Shaffran, and others who called to see what -could be done to save their reputations from the wreck of Turpentine. -The stalwart private secretary told them that Mr. Sharpe was out of -town. He was a very polite man, was the secretary; and an amateur boxer -of great proficiency. - -Failing to find Sharpe, they hastily organized a new pool, of a -self-protective character, and sent in “supporting” orders. They were -obliged to take large quantities of stock that day and the next in order -to prevent a worse smash, which would hurt them in other directions. -They found themselves with more than 50,000 shares on their hands, and -the price was only 26 @ 28. And merely to try to sell the stock at that -time threatened to start a fresh Turpentine panic. - -They met Sharpe on Monday. His speech was not so short as usual. He had -previously sent to each man an envelope containing a check and a -statement, and now he said, in a matter-of-fact tone: - -“Gentlemen and Greenbaum, you all know what I did for Turpentine on the -up-tack. Around 62 I began to strike some stock which I couldn’t account -for. I knew none of you had any for sale, of course, as you had pledged -me your honorable words not to sell, save through me. But the stock kept -coming out, even though the sellers borrowed against it, as if it were -short stock, and I began to fear I had met an inexhaustible supply. It -is always best on such occasions to act promptly, and so, after driving -in the real shorts, I sold out our stock. The average selling price was -40. If it had not been for that mysterious selling it would have been -80. After commissions and other legitimate pool expenses, I find we have -made nine points net, or $1,029,600, of which 25 per cent., or $250,000, -come to me according to the agreement. It is too bad some people didn’t -know enough to hold their stock for 90. But I find Wall Street is full -of uncertainties—there is so much stupidity in the district. I trust you -are satisfied. In view of the circumstances, I am. Yes, indeed. -Good-day, gentlemen; and you too, Greenbaum, good-day.” - -There was nothing tigerish about him. He was affable and polished; they -could see that he seemed pleased to the purring point. He nodded to them -and went into his inner office. - -They blustered and fumed among themselves and gained courage thereby and -tried Sharpe’s door and found it locked. They knocked thereon, -vehemently, and the ubiquitous private secretary came out and told them -that Mr. Sharpe had an important engagement and could not be disturbed, -but that he was authorized to discuss any item of the statement, and he -had charge of all the vouchers, in the shape of brokers’ reports, etc. -So they expressed their opinions of the private secretary and of his -master rather mildly, and went out, crestfallen. Outside they compared -notes, and in a burst of honesty they confessed. Then, illogically -enough, they cursed Sharpe. The pool was not “ahead of the game.” They -had so much more stock on their hands than they desired, that in reality -they were heavy losers! - -And as time wore on they had to buy more “Turp”; and more “Turp”; and -still more “Turp.” They thought they could emulate Sharpe and rush the -price up irresistibly, at any rate up to 50. They declared a dividend of -2 per cent on the stock. But they could not market Turpentine. Again and -again they tried, and again and again they failed. And each time the -failure was worse because they had to take more stock. - -It is now quoted at 16 @ 18. But it is not readily vendible at that -figure; nor, indeed, at any price. Opposition distilleries are starting -up in all the turpentine districts, and the trade outlook is gloomy. And -the principal owners of the stock of the American Turpentine Company, -holding among them not less than 140,000 out of the entire issue of -300,000 unvendible shares, are the famous “Greenbaum Skindicate.” - - - - - THE TIPSTER - - -Gilmartin was still laughing professionally at the prospective buyer’s -funny story when the telephone on his desk buzzed. He said: “Excuse me -for a minute, old man,” to the customer—Hopkins, the Connecticut -manufacturer. - -“Hello; who is this?” he spoke into the transmitter. “Oh, how are -you?—Yes—I was out—Is that so?—Too bad—Too bad—Yes; just my luck to be -out. I might have known it!—Do you think so?—Well, then, sell the 200 -Occidental common—You know best—What about Trolley?—Hold on?—All right; -just as you say—I hope so—I don’t like to lose, and—Ha! Ha!—I guess -so—Good-by.” - -“It’s from my brokers,” explained Gilmartin, hanging up the receiver. -“I’d have saved five hundred dollars if I had been here at half-past -ten. They called me up to advise me to sell out, and the price is off -over three points. I could have got out at a profit, this morning; but, -no sir; not I. I had to be away, trying to buy some camphor.” - -Hopkins was impressed. Gilmartin perceived it and went on, with an air -of comical wrath which he thought was preferable to indifference: “It -isn’t the money I mind so much as the tough luck of it. I didn’t make my -trade in camphor after all and I lost in stocks, when if I’d only waited -five minutes more in the office I’d have got the message from my brokers -and saved my five hundred. Expensive, my time is, eh?” with a woful -shake of the head. - -“But you’re ahead of the game, aren’t you?” asked the customer, -interestedly. - -“Well, I guess yes. Just about twelve thousand.” - -That was more than Gilmartin had made; but having exaggerated, he -immediately felt very kindly disposed toward the Connecticut man. - -“Whew!” whistled Hopkins, admiringly. Gilmartin experienced a great -tenderness toward him. The lie was made stingless by the customer’s -credulity. This brought a smile of subtle relief to Gilmartin’s lips. He -was a pleasant-faced, pleasant-voiced man of three-and-thirty. He -exhaled health, contentment, neatness, and an easy conscience. Honesty -and good-nature shone in his eyes. People liked to shake hands with him. -It made his friends talk of his lucky star; and they envied him. - -“I bought this yesterday for my wife; took it out of a little deal in -Trolley,” he told Hopkins, taking a small jewel-box from one of the -desk’s drawers. It contained a diamond ring, somewhat showy but -obviously quite expensive. Hopkins’ semi-envious admiration made -Gilmartin add, genially: “What do you say to lunch? I feel I am entitled -to a glass of ‘fizz’ to forget my bad luck of this morning.” Then, in an -exaggeratedly apologetic tone: “Nobody likes to lose five hundred -dollars on an empty stomach!” - -“She’ll be delighted, of course,” said Hopkins, thinking of Mrs. -Gilmartin. Mrs. Hopkins loved jewelry. - -“She’s the nicest little woman that ever lived. Whatever is mine, is -hers; and what’s hers is her own. Ha! Ha! But,” becoming nicely serious, -“all that I’ll make out of the stock market I’m going to put away for -her, in her name. She can take better care of it than I; and, besides, -she’s entitled to it, anyhow, for being so nice to me.” - -That is how he told what a good husband he was. He felt so pleased over -it, that he went on, sincerely regretful: “She’s visiting friends in -Pennsylvania or I’d ask you to dine with us.” And they went to a -fashionable restaurant together. - -Day after day Gilmartin thought persistently that Maiden Lane was too -far from Wall Street. There came a week in which he could have made four -very handsome “turns” had he but been in the brokers’ office. He was out -on business for his firm and when he returned the opportunity had gone, -leaving behind it vivid visions of what might have been; also the -conviction that time, tide and the ticker wait for no man. Instead of -buying and selling quinine and balsams and essential oils for Maxwell & -Kip, drug brokers and importers, he decided to make the buying and -selling of stocks and bonds his exclusive business. The hours were easy; -the profits would be great. He would make enough to live on. He would -not let the Street take away what it had given. That was the great -secret: to know when to quit! He would be content with a moderate -amount, wisely invested in gilt-edged bonds. And then he would bid the -Street good-by forever. - -Force of long business custom and the indefinable fear of new ventures -for a time fought successfully his increasing ticker-fever. But one day -his brokers wished to speak to him, to urge him to sell out his entire -holdings, having been advised of an epoch-making resolution by Congress. -They had received the news in advance from a Washington customer. Other -brokers had important connections in the Capital and therefore there was -no time to lose. They dared not assume the responsibility of selling him -out without his permission. Five minutes—five eternities!—passed before -they could talk by telephone with him; and when he gave his order to -sell, the market had broken five or six points. The news was “out.” The -news-agencies’ slips were in the brokers’ offices and half of Wall -Street knew. Instead of being among the first ten sellers Gilmartin was -among the second hundred. - - - II. - -The clerks gave him a farewell dinner. All were there, even the head -office-boy to whom the two-dollar subscription was no light matter. The -man who probably would succeed Gilmartin as manager, Jenkins, acted as -toastmaster. He made a witty speech which ended with a neatly turned -compliment. Moreover, he seemed sincerely sorry to bid good-by to the -man whose departure meant promotion—which was the nicest compliment of -all. And the other clerks—old Williamson, long since ambition-proof; and -young Hardy, bitten ceaselessly by it; and middle-aged Jameson, who knew -he could run the business much better than Gilmartin; and Baldwin, who -never thought of business in or out of the office—all told him how good -he had been and related corroborative anecdotes that made him blush and -the others cheer; and how sorry they were he would no longer be with -them, but how glad he was going to do so much better by himself; and -they hoped he would not “cut” them when he met them after he had become -a great millionaire. And Gilmartin felt his heart grow soft and feelings -not all of happiness came over him. Danny, the dean of the office boys, -whose surname was known only to the cashier, rose and said, in the tones -of one speaking of a dear departed friend: “He was the best man in the -place. He always was all right.” Everybody laughed; whereupon Danny went -on, with a defiant glare at the others: “I’d work for him for nothin’ if -he’d want me, instead of gettin’ ten a week from anyone else.” And when -they laughed the harder at this he said, stoutly: “Yes, I would!” His -eyes filled with tears at their incredulity, which he feared might be -shared by Mr. Gilmartin. But the toastmaster rose very gravely and said: -“What’s the matter with Danny?” And all shouted in unison: “He’s all -right!” with a cordiality so heartfelt that Danny smiled and sat down, -blushing happily. And crusty Jameson, who knew he could run the business -so much better than Gilmartin, stood up—he was the last speaker—and -began: “In the ten years I’ve worked with Gilmartin, we’ve had our -differences and—well—I—well—er—oh, DAMN IT!” and walked quickly to the -head of the table and shook hands violently with Gilmartin for fully a -minute, while all the others looked on in silence. - -Gilmartin had been eager to go to Wall Street. But this leave-taking -made him sad. The old Gilmartin who had worked with these men was no -more and the new Gilmartin felt sorry. He had never stopped to think how -much they cared for him nor indeed how very much he cared for them. He -told them, very simply, he did not expect ever again to spend such -pleasant years anywhere as at the old office; and as for his spells of -ill-temper—oh, yes, they needn’t shake their heads; he knew he often was -irritable—he had meant well and trusted they would forgive him. If he -had his life to live over again he would try really to deserve all that -they had said of him on this evening. And he was very, very sorry to -leave them. “Very sorry, boys; very sorry. _Very_ sorry!” he finished -lamely, with a wistful smile. He shook hands with each man—a strong grip -as though he were about to go on a journey from which he might never -return—and in his heart of hearts there was a new doubt of the wisdom of -going to Wall Street. But it was too late to draw back. - -They escorted him to his house. They wished to be with him to the last -possible minute. - - - III. - -Everybody in the drug trade seemed to think that Gilmartin was on the -high road to Fortune. Those old business acquaintances and former -competitors whom he happened to meet in the streetcars or in theatre -lobbies always spoke to him as to a millionaire-to-be, in what they -imagined was correct Wall Street jargon, to show him that they too knew -something of the great game. But their efforts made him smile with a -sense of superiority, at the same time that their admiration for his -cleverness and their good-natured envy for his luck made his soul thrill -joyously. Among his new friends in Wall Street also he found much to -enjoy. The other customers—some of them very wealthy men—listened to his -views regarding the market as attentively as he, later, felt it his -polite duty to listen to theirs. The brokers themselves treated him as a -“good fellow.” They cajoled him into trading often—every one-hundred -shares he bought or sold meant $12.50 to them—and when he won, they -praised his unerring discernment. When he lost they soothed him by -scolding him for his recklessness—just as a mother will treat her -three-years-old’s fall as a great joke in order to deceive the child -into laughing at its misfortune. It was an average office with an -average clientele. - -From ten to three they stood before the quotation board and watched a -quick-witted boy chalk the price-changes, which one or another of the -customers read aloud from the tape as it came from the ticker. The -higher stocks went the more numerous the customers became, being allured -in great flocks to the Street by the tales of their friends, who had -profited greatly by the rise. All were winning, for all were buying -stocks in a bull market. They resembled each other marvellously, these -men who differed so greatly in cast of features and complexion and age. -Life to all of them was full of joy. The very ticker sounded mirthful; -its clicking told of golden jokes. And Gilmartin and the other customers -laughed heartily at the mildest of stories without even waiting for the -point of the joke. At times their fingers clutched the air happily, as -if they actually felt the good money the ticker was presenting to them. -They were all neophytes at the great game—lambkins who were bleating -blithely to inform the world what clever and formidable wolves they -were. Some of them had sustained occasional losses; but these were -trifling compared with their winnings. - -When the slump came all were heavily committed to the bull side. It was -a bad slump. It was so unexpected—by the lambs—that all of them said, -very gravely, it came like a thunderclap out of a clear sky. While it -lasted, that is, while the shearing of the flock was proceeding, it was -very uncomfortable. Those same joyous, winning stock-gamblers, with -beaming faces, of the week before, were fear-clutched, losing -stock-gamblers, with livid faces, on what they afterward called the day -of the panic. It really was only a slump; rather sharper than usual. Too -many lambs had been over-speculating. The wholesale dealers in -securities—and insecurities—held very little of their own wares, having -sold them to the lambs, and wanted them back now—cheaper. The customers’ -eyes, as on happier days were intent on the quotation-board. Their -dreams were rudely shattered; the fast horses some had all but bought -joined the steam-yachts others almost had chartered. The beautiful homes -they had been building were torn down in the twinkling of an eye. And -the demolisher of dreams and dwellings was the ticker, that instead of -golden jokes, was now clicking financial death. - -They could not take their eyes from the board before them. Their own -ruin, told in mournful numbers by the little machine, fascinated them. -To be sure, poor Gilmartin said: “I’ve changed my mind about Newport. I -guess I’ll spend the summer on my own _Hotel de Roof_!” And he grinned; -but he grinned alone. Wilson, the dry goods man, who laughed so joyously -at everybody’s jokes, was now watching, as if under a hypnotic spell, -the lips of the man who sat on the high stool beside the ticker and -called out the prices to the quotation boy. Now and again Wilson’s own -lips made curious grimaces, as if speaking to himself. Brown, the -slender, pale-faced man, was outside in the hall, pacing to and fro. All -was lost, including honor. And he was afraid to look at the ticker, -afraid to hear the prices shouted, yet hoping—for a miracle! Gilmartin -came out from the office, saw Brown and said, with sickly bravado: “I -held out as long as I could. But they got _my_ ducats. A sporting life -comes high, I tell you!” But Brown did not heed him and Gilmartin pushed -the elevator-button impatiently and cursed at the delay. He not only had -lost the “paper” profits he had accumulated during the bull-market but -all his savings of years had crumbled away beneath the strokes of the -ticker that day. It was the same with all. They would not take a small -loss at first but had held on, in the hope of a recovery that would “let -them out even.” And prices had sunk and sunk until the loss was so great -that it seemed only proper to hold on, if need be a year, for sooner or -later prices must come back. But the break “shook them out,” and prices -went just so much lower because so many people had to sell, whether they -would or not. - - - IV. - -After the slump most of the customers returned to their legitimate -business—sadder, but it is to be feared, not much wiser men. Gilmartin, -after the first numbing shock, tried to learn of fresh opportunities in -the drug business. But his heart was not in his search. There was the -shame of confessing defeat in Wall Street so soon after leaving Maiden -Lane; but far stronger than this was the effect of the poison of -gambling. If it was bad enough to be obliged to begin lower than he had -been at Maxwell & Kip’s, it was worse to condemn himself to long weary -years of work in the drug business when his reward, if he remained -strong and healthy, would consist merely in being able to save a few -thousands. But a few lucky weeks in the stock market would win him back -all he had lost—and more! - -He should have begun in a small way while he was learning to speculate. -He saw it now very clearly. Every one of his mistakes had been due to -inexperience. He had imagined he knew the market. But it was only now -that he really knew it and therefore it was only now, after the slump -had taught him so much, that he could reasonably hope to succeed. His -mind, brooding over his losses, definitely dismissed as futile the -resumption of the purchase and sale of drugs, and dwelt persistently on -the sudden acquisition of stock market wisdom. Properly applied, this -wisdom ought to mean much to him. In a few weeks he was again spending -his days before the quotation board, gossiping with those customers who -had survived, giving and receiving advice. And as time passed the grip -of Wall Street on his soul grew stronger until it strangled all other -aspirations. He could talk, think, dream of nothing but stocks. He could -not read the newspapers without thinking how the market would “take” the -news contained therein. If a huge refinery burnt down, with a loss to -the “Trust” of $4,000,000, he sighed because he had not foreseen the -catastrophe and had sold Sugar short. If a strike by the men of the -Suburban Trolley Company led to violence and destruction of life and -property, he cursed an unrelenting Fate because he had not had the -prescience to “put out” a thousand shares of Trolley. And he constantly -calculated to the last fraction of a point how much money he would have -made if he had sold short just before the calamity at the very top -prices and had covered his stock at the bottom. Had he only known! The -atmosphere of the Street, the odor of speculation surrounded him on all -sides, enveloped him like a fog, from which the things of the outside -world appeared as though seen through a veil. He lived in the district -where men do not say “Good-morning” on meeting one another, but “How’s -the market?” or, when one asks: “How do you feel?” receives for an -answer: “Bullish!” or “Bearish!” instead of a reply regarding the state -of health. - -At first, after the fatal slump, Gilmartin importuned his brokers to let -him speculate on credit, in a small way. They did. They were kindly -enough men and sincerely wished to help him. But luck ran against him. -With the obstinacy of unsuperstitious gamblers he insisted on fighting -Fate. He was a bull in a bear market; and the more he lost the more he -thought the inevitable “rally” in prices was due. He bought in -expectation of it and lost again and again, until he owed the brokers a -greater sum than he could possibly pay; and they refused point blank to -give him credit for another cent, disregarding his vehement entreaties -to buy a last hundred, just one more chance, the last, because he would -be sure to win. And, of course, the long-expected happened and the -market went up with a rapidity that made the Street blink; and Gilmartin -figured that had not the brokers refused his last order, he would have -made enough to pay off the indebtedness and have left, in addition, -$2,950; for he would have “pyramided” on the way up. He showed the -brokers his figures, accusingly, and they had some words about it and he -left the office, almost tempted to sue the firm for conspiracy with -intent to defraud; but decided that it was “another of Luck’s -sockdolagers” and let it go at that, gambler-like. - -When he returned to the brokers’ office—the next day—he began to -speculate in the only way he could—vicariously. Smith, for instance, who -was long of 500 St. Paul at 125, took less interest in the deal than did -Gilmartin who thenceforth assiduously studied the news-slips and sought -information on St. Paul all over the Street, listening thrillingly to -tips and rumors regarding the stock, suffering keenly when the price -declined, laughing and chirruping blithely if the quotations moved -upward, exactly as though it were his own stock. In a measure it was as -an anodyne to his ticker-fever. Indeed, in some cases his interest was -so poignant and his advice so frequent—he would speak of _our_ deal—that -the lucky winner gave him a small share of his spoils, which Gilmartin -accepted without hesitation—he was beyond pride-wounding by now—and -promptly used to back some miniature deal of his own on the Consolidated -Exchange or even in “Percy’s”—a dingy little bucket-shop, where they -took orders for two shares of stock on a margin of one per cent.; that -is, where a man could bet as little as two dollars. - -Later, it often came to pass that Gilmartin would borrow a few dollars, -when the customers were not trading actively. The amounts he borrowed -diminished by reason of the increasing frequency of their refusals. -Finally, he was asked to stay away from the office where once he had -been an honored and pampered customer. - -He became a Wall Street “has been” and could be seen daily on New -Street, back of the Consolidated Exchange, where the “put” and “call” -brokers congregate. The tickers in the saloons nearby fed his gambler’s -appetite. From time to time luckier men took him into the same -be-tickered saloons, where he ate at the free lunch counters and drank -beer and talked stocks and listened to the lucky winners’ narratives -with lips tremulous with readiness to smile and grimace. At times the -gambler in him would assert itself and he would tell the lucky winners, -wrathfully, how the stock he wished to buy but couldn’t the week before, -had risen 18 points. But they, saturated with their own ticker-fever, -would nod absently, their soul’s eyes fixed on some quotation-to-be; or -they would not nod at all but in their eagerness to look at the tape -from which they had been absent two long minutes, would leave him -without a single word of consolation or even of farewell. - - - V. - -One day, in New Street, he overheard a very well known broker tell -another that Mr. Sharpe was “going to move up Pennsylvania Central right -away.” The over-hearing of the conversation was a bit of rare good luck -that raised Gilmartin from his sodden apathy and made him hasten to his -brother-in-law who kept a grocery store in Brooklyn. He implored Griggs -to go to a broker and buy as much Pennsylvania Central as he could—that -is, if he wished to live in luxury the rest of his life. Sam Sharpe was -going to put it up. Also, he borrowed ten dollars. - -Griggs was tempted. He debated with himself many hours, and at length -yielded with misgivings. He took his savings and bought one hundred -shares of Pennsylvania Central at 64 and began to neglect his business -in order to study the financial pages of the newspapers. Little by -little Gilmartin’s whisper set in motion within him the wheels of a -ticker that printed on his day-dreams the mark of the dollar. His wife, -seeing him preoccupied, thought business was bad; but Griggs denied it, -confirming her worst fears. Finally, he had a telephone put in his -little shop, to be able to talk to his brokers. - -Gilmartin, with the ten dollars he had borrowed, promptly bought ten -shares in a bucket shop at 63⅞; the stock promptly went to 62⅞; he was -promptly “wiped”; and the stock promptly went back to 64½. - -On the next day a fellow-customer of the Gilmartin of old days invited -him to have a drink. Gilmartin resented the man’s evident prosperity. He -felt indignant at the ability of the other to buy hundreds of shares. -But the liquor soothed him, and in a burst of mild remorse he told -Smithers, after an apprehensive look about him as if he feared someone -might overhear: “I’ll tell you something, on the dead q. t., for your -own benefit.” - -“Fire away!” - -“Pa. Cent. is going ‘way up.” - -“Yes?” said Smithers, calmly. - -“Yes; it will cross par sure.” - -“Umph!” between munches of a pretzel. - -“Yes. Sam Sharpe told”—Gilmartin was on the point of saying a “friend of -mine” but caught himself and went on, impressively—“told me, yesterday, -to buy Pa. Cent. as he had accumulated his full line, and was ready to -whoop it up. And you know what Sharpe is,” he finished, as if he thought -Smithers was familiar with Sharpe’s powers. - -“Is that so?” nibbled Smithers. - -“Why, when Sharpe makes up his mind to put up a stock, as he intends to -do with Pa. Cent., nothing on earth can stop him. He told me he would -make it cross par within sixty days. This is no hearsay, no tip. It’s -cold facts. I don’t _hear_ it’s going up; I don’t _think_ it’s going up; -I _know_ it’s going up. Understand?” And he shook his right forefinger -with a hammering motion. - -In less than five minutes Smithers was so wrought up that he bought 500 -shares and promised solemnly not to “take his profits,” _i.e._ sell out, -until Gilmartin said the word. Then they had another drink and another -look at the ticker. - -“You want to keep in touch with me,” was Gilmartin’s parting shot. “I’ll -tell you what Sharpe tells me. But you must keep it quiet,” with a -side-wise nod that pledged Smithers to honorable secrecy. - -Had Gilmartin met Sharpe face to face, he would not have known who was -before him. - -Shortly after he left Smithers he buttonholed another acquaintance, a -young man who thought he knew Wall Street, and therefore had a -hobby—manipulation. No one could induce him to buy stocks by telling him -how well the companies were doing, how bright the prospects, etc. That -was bait for “suckers” not for clever young stock operators. But anyone, -even a stranger, who said that “they”—the perennially mysterious “they,” -the “big men,” the mighty “manipulators” whose life was one prolonged -conspiracy to pull the wool over the public’s eyes—“they” were going to -“jack up” these or the other shares, was welcomed, and his advice acted -upon. Young Freeman believed in nothing but “their” wickedness and -“their” power to advance or depress stock values at will. Thinking of -his wisdom had given him a chronic sneer. - -“You’re just the man I was looking for,” said Gilmartin, who hadn’t -thought of the young man at all. - -“What Sam?” - -“Sharpe. The old boy sent for me. He was in mighty good-humor too. -Tickled to death. He might well be—he’s got 60,000 shares of -Pennsylvania Central. And there’s going to be from 50 to 60 points -profit in it.” - -“H’m!” sniffed Freeman, skeptically, yet impressed by the change in -Gilmartin’s attitude from the money-borrowing humility of the previous -week to the confident tone of a man with a straight tip. Sharpe was -notoriously kind to his old friends—rich or poor. - -“I was there when the papers were signed,” Gilmartin said, hotly. “I was -going to leave the room, but Sam told me I needn’t. I can’t tell you -what it is about; really I can’t. But he’s simply going to put the stock -above par. It’s 64½ now, and you know and I know that by the time it is -75 the newspapers will all be talking about inside buying; and at 85 -everybody will want to buy it on account of important developments; and -at 95 there will be millions of bull tips on it and rumors of increased -dividends, and people who would not look at it thirty points lower will -rush in and buy it by the bushel. Let me know who is manipulating a -stock, and to h—l with dividends and earnings. Them’s _my_ sentiments,” -with a final hammering nod, as if driving in a profound truth. - -“Same here,” assented Freeman, cordially. He was attacked on his -vulnerable side. - -Strange things happen in Wall Street. Sometimes tips come true. It so -proved in this case. Sharpe started the stock upward brilliantly—the -movement became historic in the Street—and Pa. Cent. soared dizzily and -all the newspapers talked of it and the public went mad over it and it -touched 80 and 85 and 88 and higher, and then Gilmartin made his -brother-in-law sell out and Smithers and Freeman. Their profits were: -Griggs, $3,000; Smithers, $15,100; Freeman, $2,750. Gilmartin made them -give him a good percentage. He had no trouble with his brother-in-law. -Gilmartin told him it was an inviolable Wall Street custom and so Griggs -paid, with an air of much experience in such matters. Freeman was more -or less grateful. But Smithers met Gilmartin and full of his good luck -repeated what he had told a dozen men within the hour: “I did a dandy -stroke the other day. Pa. Cent. looked to me like higher prices and I -bought a wad of it. I’ve cleaned up a tidy sum,” and he looked proud of -his own penetration. He really had forgotten that it was Gilmartin who -had given him the tip. But not so Gilmartin who retorted, witheringly: - -“Well, I’ve often heard of folks that you put into good things and they -make money and afterward they come to you and tell how damned smart they -were to hit it right. But you can’t work that on me. I’ve got -witnesses.” - -“Witnesses?” echoed Smithers, looking cheap. He remembered. - -“Yes, wit-ness-es,” mimicked Gilmartin, scornfully. “I all but had to -get on my knees to make you buy it. And I told you when to sell it, too. -The information came to me straight from headquarters and you got the -use of it and now the least you can do is to give me twenty-five hundred -dollars.” - -In the end he accepted $800. He told mutual friends that Smithers had -cheated him. - - - VI. - -It seemed as though the regeneration of Gilmartin had been achieved when -he changed his shabby raiment for expensive clothes. He paid his -tradesmen’s bills and moved into better quarters. He spent his money as -though he had made millions. One week after he had closed out the deal -his friends would have sworn Gilmartin had always been prosperous. That -was his exterior. His inner self remained the same—a gambler. He began -to speculate again, in the office of Freeman’s brokers. - -At the end of the second month he had lost not only the $1,200 he had -deposited with the firm, but an additional $250 he had given his wife -and had been obliged to “borrow” back from her, despite her assurances -that he would lose it. This time, the slump was really unexpected by -all, even by the magnates—the mysterious and all powerful “they” of -Freeman’s—so that the loss of the second fortune did not reflect on -Gilmartin’s ability as a speculator but on his luck. As a matter of -fact, he had been too careful and had sinned from over-timidity at -first, only to plunge later and lose all. - -As the result of much thought about his losses Gilmartin became a -professional tipster. To let others speculate for him seemed the only -sure way of winning. He began by advising ten victims—he learned in time -to call them clients—to sell Steel Rod preferred, each man 100 shares; -and to a second ten he urged the purchase of the same quantity of the -same stock. To all he advised taking four points’ profit. Not all -followed his advice, but the seven clients who sold it made between them -nearly $3,000 over night. His percentage amounted to $287.50. Six bought -and when they lost he told them confidentially how the treachery of a -leading member of the pool had obliged the pool managers to withdraw -their support from the stock temporarily; whence the decline. They -grumbled; but he assured them that he himself had lost nearly $1,600 of -his own on account of the traitor. - -For some months Gilmartin made a fair living but business became very -dull. People learned to fight shy of his tips. The persuasiveness was -gone from his inside news and from his confidential advice from Sharpe -and from his beholding with his own eyes the signing of epoch-making -documents. Had he been able to make his customers alternate their -winnings and losses he might have kept his trade. But for example, -“Dave” Rossiter, in Stuart & Stern’s office, stupidly received the wrong -tip six times in succession. It wasn’t Gilmartin’s fault but Rossiter’s -bad luck. - -At length failing to get enough clients in the ticker-district itself -Gilmartin was forced to advertise in an afternoon paper, six times a -week, and in the Sunday edition of one of the leading morning dailies. -They ran like this: - - - WE MAKE MONEY - - for our investors by the best system ever devised. Deal with - genuine experts. Two methods of operating; one speculative, the - other insures absolute safety. - - - NOW - - is the time to invest in a certain stock for ten points sure - profit. Three points margin will carry it. Remember how correct we - have been on other stocks. Take advantage of this move. - - - IOWA MIDLAND. - - Big movement coming in this stock. It’s very near at hand. Am - waiting daily for word. Will get it in time. Splendid opportunity - to make big money. It costs only a 2–cent stamp to write to me. - - - CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION. - - Private secretary of banker and stock operator of world-wide - reputation, has valuable information. I don’t wish your money. Use - your own broker. All I want is a share of what you will surely - make if you follow my advice. - - - WILL ADVANCE $40 PER SHARE. - - A fortune to be made in a railroad stock. Deal pending which will - advance same $40 per share within three months. Am in position to - keep informed as to developments and the operations of a pool. - Parties who will carry for me 100 shares with a New York Stock - Exchange house will receive the full benefit of information. - Investment safe and sure. Highest references given. - -He prospered amazingly. Answers came to him from furniture dealers on -Fourth Avenue and dairymen up the State and fruit growers in Delaware -and factory workers in Massachusetts and electricians in New Jersey and -coal miners in Pennsylvania and shop keepers and physicians and plumbers -and undertakers in towns and cities near and far. Every morning -Gilmartin telegraphed to scores of people—at their expense—to sell, and -to scores of others to buy the same stocks. And he claimed his -commissions from the winners. - -Little by little his savings grew; and with them grew his desire to -speculate on his own account. It made him irritable, not to gamble. - -He met Freeman one day in one of his dissatisfied moods. Out of -politeness he asked the young cynic the universal query of the Street: - -“What do you think of ‘em?” He meant stocks. - -“What difference does it make what _I_ think?” sneered Freeman, with -proud humility. “I’m nobody.” But he looked as if he did not agree with -himself. - -“What do you _know_?” pursued Gilmartin, mollifyingly. - -“I know enough to be long of Gotham Gas. I just bought a thousand shares -at 180.” He really had bought a hundred only. - -“What on?” - -“On information. I got it straight from a director of the company. Look -here, Gilmartin, I’m pledged to secrecy. But, for your own benefit, I’ll -just tell you to buy all the Gas you possibly can carry. The deal is on. -I know that certain papers were signed last night, and they are almost -ready to spring it on the public. They haven’t got all the stock they -want. When they get it, look out for fireworks.” - -Gilmartin did not perceive any resemblance between Freeman’s tips and -his own. He said, hesitatingly, as though ashamed of his timidity: - -“The stock seems pretty high at 180.” - -“You won’t think so when it sells at 250. Gilmartin, I don’t _hear_ -this; I don’t _think_ it; I _know_ it!” - -“All right; I’m in,” quoth Gilmartin, jovially. He felt a sense of -emancipation now that he had made up his mind to resume his speculating. -He took every cent of the nine hundred dollars he had made from telling -people the same things that Freeman told him now, and bought a hundred -Gotham Gas at $185 a share. Also he telegraphed to all his clients to -plunge in the stock. - -It fluctuated between 184 and 186 for a fortnight. Freeman daily -asseverated that “they” were accumulating the stock. But, one fine day, -the directors met, agreed that business was bad and having sold out most -of their own holdings, decided to reduce the dividend rate from 8 to 6 -per cent. Gotham Gas broke seventeen points in ten short minutes. -Gilmartin lost all he had. He found it impossible to pay for his -advertisements. The telegraph companies refused to accept any more -“collect” messages. This deprived Gilmartin of his income as a tipster. -Griggs had kept on speculating and had lost all his money and his wife’s -in a little deal in Iowa Midland. All that Gilmartin could hope to get -from him was an occasional invitation to dinner. Mrs. Gilmartin, after -they were dispossessed for non-payment of rent, left her husband and -went to live with a sister in Newark who did not like Gilmartin. - -His clothes became shabby and his meals irregular. But always in his -heart, as abiding as an inventor’s faith in himself, there dwelt the -hope that some day, somehow, he would “strike it rich” in the stock -market. - -One day he borrowed five dollars from a man who had made five thousand -in Cosmopolitan Traction. The stock, the man said, had only begun to go -up, and Gilmartin believed it and bought five shares in “Percy’s,” his -favorite bucket-shop. The stock began to rise slowly but steadily. The -next afternoon “Percy’s” was raided, the proprietor having disagreed -with the police as to price. - -Gilmartin lingered about New Street, talking with other customers of the -raided bucket shop, discussing whether or not it was a “put up job” of -old Percy himself who, it was known, had been losing money to the crowd -for weeks past. One by one the victims went away and at length Gilmartin -left the ticker district. He walked slowly down Wall Street, then turned -up William Street, thinking of his luck. Cosmopolitan Traction had -certainly looked like higher prices. Indeed, it seemed to him that he -could almost hear the stock shouting, articulately: “_I’m going up, -right away, right away!_” If somebody would buy a thousand shares and -agree to give him the profits on a hundred, on ten, on one! - -But he had not even his carfare. Then he remembered that he had not -eaten since breakfast. It did him no good to remember it now. He would -have to get his dinner from Griggs in Brooklyn. - -“Why,” Gilmartin told himself with a burst of curious self-contempt, “I -can’t even buy a cup of coffee!” - -He raised his head and looked about him to find how insignificant a -restaurant it was in which he could not buy even a cup of coffee. He had -reached Maiden Lane. As his glance ran up and down the north side of -that street, it was arrested by the sign: - - MAXWELL & KIP. - -At first he felt but vaguely what it meant. It had grown unfamiliar with -absence. The clerks were coming out. Jameson, looking crustier than -ever, as though he were forever thinking how much better than Jenkins he -could run the business; Danny, some inches taller, no longer an office -boy but spick and span in a blue serge suit and a necktie of the latest -style, exhaling health and correctness; Williamson, grown very gray and -showing on his face thirty years of routine; Baldwin, happy as of yore -at the ending of the day’s work, and smiling at the words of -Jenkins—Gilmartin’s successor who wore an air of authority, of the habit -of command which he had not known in the old days. - -Of a sudden Gilmartin was in the midst of his old life. He saw all that -he had been, all that he might still be. And he was overwhelmed. He -longed to rush to his old associates, to speak to them, to shake hands -with them, to be the old Gilmartin. He was about to step toward Jenkins; -but stopped abruptly. His clothes were shabby and he felt ashamed. But, -he apologized to himself, he could tell them how he had made a hundred -thousand and had lost it. And he even might borrow a few dollars from -Jenkins. - -Gilmartin turned on his heel with a sudden impulse and walked away from -Maiden Lane quickly. All that he thought now was that he would not have -them see him in his plight. He felt the shabbiness of his clothes -without looking at them. As he walked, a great sense of loneliness came -over him. - -He was back in Wall Street. At the head of the Street was old Trinity; -to the right the sub-Treasury; to the left the Stock Exchange. - -From Maiden Lane to the Lane of the Ticker—such had been his life. - -“If I could only buy some Cosmopolitan Traction!” he said. Then he -walked forlornly northward, to the great Bridge, on his way to Brooklyn -to eat with Griggs, the ruined grocery-man. - - - - - A PHILANTHROPIC WHISPER - - -There have been all manner of big stock operators and “leaders” in Wall -Street—gentlemanly, well-educated leaders with a gift of epigram and -foul-spoken leaders who knew as little of grammar as of manners; leaders -to whom the stock market was only the Monte Carlo of the Tape and -leaders to whom it was a means to an end; cool, calculating, -steel-nerved leaders and fidgety, impulsive, excitable leaders; leaders -who were church pillars and total abstainers and leaders whose only God -was the ticker and whose most brilliant operations were carried on -during the course of a drunken debauch. But never before, in the -breathless history of Wall Street, had there been a leader whose -following was numbered by the thousands and included not only the -“shoe-string” speculators but the very richest of the rich! Never before -a leader whose word took the place of statistical information, whose -mere “I am buying it” created more purchasers for a stock than all the -glowing prospectuses and all the accountants’ affidavits and all the -bankers’ estimates. - -At first Wall Street said the public was suffering from an epidemic of -speculative insanity; that Colonel Treadwell was merely a bold operator -“backed” by a clique of the greatest fortunes in America; that he was -not a skilful “manipulator” of values, but by sheer brute force of -tremendous buying he made those stocks advance with which he was -identified and that, of course, the public always follows the stocks -that are made active; and many other explanations. But in the end Wall -Street came to realize exactly to what it was that the blind devotion of -the speculative public for the colonel was due. Defying all traditions, -upsetting all precedents, violating all rules, driving all the -“veterans” to the verge of hysterics and bankruptcy by his daily -defiance of accepted views as to the art of operating in stocks, Colonel -Josiah T. Treadwell founded a new school: He told the truth. - -The colonel sat in his office alone with his thoughts. The door was -open—it was always open—and the clerks and customers of Treadwell & Co. -as they passed to and fro caught glimpses of the great leader’s broad, -kindly face and shrewd, little, twinkling eyes that seemed to smile at -them. They wondered what new “deal” the colonel was planning. And then -they wished with all their souls and purses they knew the name of the -stock—merely the name of it—so that they might “get in on the ground -floor.” - -The famous operator sat on a revolving chair by his desk. He had turned -his back on an accumulation of correspondence and he now rotated from -right to left and from left to right. The tips of his shoes—he was a -short man—missed the floor by an inch or two and he swung his feet -contentedly. A ticker whirred away blithely and from time to time -Treadwell ceased his rocking and his foot-swinging, and glanced jovially -at the ticker “tape.” From his window he could see a Mississippi of -people or a bit of New York summer sky, but his restless eyes were -roaming and skipping from place to place. And the clerks and the -customers wondered whether the market was going the way the colonel had -planned. The ticker was whirring and clicking, impassively, and the -colonel wore a meditative look. What was the “old man” scheming? The -bears had better be on their guard! As a matter of fact, Josiah T. -Treadwell was thinking that his brother Wilson, who had left him a few -minutes before, was certainly growing bald. He also wondered whether -people who advertised “restorers” and “invigorators” were veracious or -merely “Wall Streety” as he put it to himself. - -A young man, an utter stranger to Colonel Treadwell, halted at the door, -and looked at the leader of the stock market, hesitatingly. - -“Come in, come in,” called out the colonel, cheerily. “Won’t you walk -into my parlor?” - -“Good-morning, Colonel Treadwell,” said the lad, diffidently. - -“Who are you, and what are you, and what can I do for you?” said the -colonel, extending his hand. - -The youth did not heed the chubby, outstretched hand. “My name,” he -said, very formally and introductorily, “is Carey. My father used to -know you when he was editor of the _Blankburg Herald_.” - -“Well,” said the colonel, encouragingly, “shake hands anyhow.” - -Carey shook hands; his diffidence vanished. He was a pleasant-faced, -pleasant-voiced young fellow, Treadwell thought. He was a good-hearted, -jocular old fellow, unlike what he had imagined the leader of the stock -market would be, Carey thought. - -“Yes,” went on the colonel, “I remember your father very well. I never -forget my up-the-State friends, and I am always glad to see their sons. -When I ran for Congress, Bill Carey wrote red-hot editorials in my -favor, and I was beaten by a large and enthusiastic majority. I haven’t -seen your father in twenty-odd years—not since he went wrong and took to -politics.” - -“Well, Colonel Treadwell,” laughed Carey, “I guess Dad did his best for -you. And if you didn’t go to Congress you’re better off, from all I have -read in the papers about you.” - -You would have thought they had known each other for years. - -“That’s what I say; I have to,” chuckling. - -“Colonel,” said the young man, boldly, “I’ve come to ask your advice.” - -“Most people don’t ask it twice. Be careful now.” - -“Do you mean that they get so rich following it that they don’t have to -come again?” - -“You are a politician, young man. You’ll wake up and find yourself in -Congress, some fine day, unless your father goes back to newspaper work -and writes some editorials in _your_ favor.” - -The boy had a pleasant smile, the colonel thought. - -“I have saved up some money, Colonel.” - -“Keep it. That’s the best advice I can give you. Go away instantly. -Great Scott, youngster, you are in Wall Street now.” - -“Oh, I—I’m safe enough in this office, I guess,” retorted Carey. - -The famous leader of the stock market looked at him solemnly. The boy -returned the look, imperturbably. Then Colonel Treadwell laughed, and -Carey laughed back at him. - -“What are you doing to keep out of State’s prison?” asked Treadwell. - -“I’m a clerk in the office of the Federal Pump Company, third floor, -upstairs. I have saved some money and I want to know what to do with it. -I read an article in the _Sun_ the other day. It said you had advised -people to put their savings into Suburban Trolley and how well they had -fared.” - -“That was a year ago. Trolley has gone up 50 points since then.” - -“That shows how good the advice was. And you also said a young man -should do something with his savings and not let them lie idle.” The -young man looked straight into the little, twinkling, kindly eyes of the -leader of the stock market. - -“How much money have you?” - -“I have two hundred and ten dollars,” replied the lad with an uncertain -smile. He had felt proud of the magnitude of his savings in his own -room; in this office he felt a bit ashamed of their insignificance. - -“Dear me,” said the millionaire speculator, very seriously, “that is a -good deal of money. It’s a blame sight more’n I had, when I started in -business. Got it with you?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Well, I’ll introduce you to my brother Wilson, who has charge of our -customers. Come in, John.” - -“John” came in. His other name was Mellen. He was a slim, quiet-looking -man of about five-and-fifty. His enemies said that he had made -$1,000,000 for every year he had lived and had kept it. - -“Sit down, John,” said Colonel Treadwell, shaking hands with Mr. Mellen, -“I’ll be back in a minute.” - -At the door he shook hands with two more visitors—a tall, ruddy-faced, -white-haired, and white-whiskered man, Mr. Milton Steers, after-dinner -speaker and self-confessed wit; and, incidentally, president of a -railroad system; also Mr. D. M. Ogden, who looked like an English -clergyman and was the owner of the huge Ogden Buildings in Wall Street. -They had come to discuss the advisability of a new deal in “Trolley.” -They represented, they and their associates, more than $500,000,000. But -Colonel Treadwell made them wait while he escorted his new acquaintance -to his brother’s room. - -“Wilse,” he said, “I’ve brought you a new customer, Mr. Carey.” - -Wilson P. Treadwell smiled pleasantly. He was a tall, slender man with a -serious look. The firm did not desire new accounts, for there was -already more business than could be handled. They were the busiest and -the best-known stock brokers in the United States. But the colonel’s -friends were welcome, always. - -“I’m very glad to meet Mr. Carey,” said Wilson Treadwell. The firm had -some very youthful customers; but their means were in inverse ratio to -their years. - -“I think,” said the colonel, “that we had better buy some Easton & -Allentown for him.” He was smiling; he generally did. Moreover, he was -thinking of his brother’s mistaken impression of the new customer. - -“That is a good idea,” assented Wilson. “You ought to put in your order -at once. The stock is going up very fast, Mr. Carey.” - -“Well, young man, give him your margin and let him buy you as much as he -thinks best,” said the colonel. - -“Five thousand shares?” suggested Wilson Treadwell. - -Colonel Treadwell chuckled. “Five thousand? A paltry five?” - -“Well, fifty thousand if he wants them, and you guarantee his account,” -said his brother with a smile. - -“I guess,” said the leader of the stock market, slowly, “that you had -better begin with one hundred shares.” - -Then Wilson, who knew his brother thoroughly, said “Oh!” and smiled and -gave an order to a clerk to buy one hundred shares of Easton & Allentown -Railroad stock at the “market” or prevailing price, for Mr. Carey, and -took the boy’s two hundred and ten dollars with the utmost gravity. The -smallest Stock Exchange house would not accept such a pitiful account. -Treadwell & Co. being the largest, would and did. - -The colonel shook hands with young Carey, whose father had once edited a -country newspaper, but who had never been an intimate friend, told him -to “Come again, any time,” and went back to his accomplices. - -Easton & Allentown stock was the “feature” of the market that week and -the next. Ten days after Carey had bought his hundred shares at 94 the -stock sold at 106. - -The young man went into the office of Treadwell & Co., on the eleventh -day. He knew he had made a great deal of money—more than he had ever -thought of having at his age—but he did not know what to do now. He -heard one man say to another: “Take profits? Not at this price. E. & A. -is sure to go to 115.” - -Carey figured that if he waited for the stock to sell at 115, he would -make nearly a thousand dollars more. - -“There is no use of being a blamed hog,” the man continued, with -picturesque emphasis, “but where in blazes is the sense of throwing away -that much money by selling out too soon? Limit your losses and let your -profits run.” - -They stood in the corridor of the partitioned office, the crowd of men, -all of them customers of Treadwell & Co., excepting the newspaper -reporters who had called for their usual daily interview with the famous -leader of the stock market. There were two United States Senators; an -ex-Congressman; a score of men who had inherited fortunes and were -doubling them in the stock market; three or four gray-haired -shrewd-faced capitalists whose names appeared many times in the -financial pages of newspapers; a baker’s dozen of prominent municipal -politicians, a well-known Western railroad president with a ruddy face -and a snow-white beard; two famous physicians; the vice-president of a -life insurance company; a half score of wholesale merchants and a -low-voiced, insignificant little man, with a quiet, almost apologetic -look, who seldom spoke and never smiled, but who, next to the colonel -himself, was beyond question the heaviest “plunger” in the office. - -The colonel came out of his office to go to his brother’s room, where, -seated about a long polished table were several directors of the -Suburban Trolley Company—men to whom the newspapers always referred not -by name but as “prominent insiders.” It was a very important gathering. -It involved no less than a final understanding in regards to the great -“Trolley pool” whose operations, later on, were to become historical in -Wall Street. It was, as one of the speculators outside put it, “a case -of show down”—the cash resources available for pool purposes were to be -ascertained, each man announcing the proportion of the 100,000 shares -for which he was willing to “put up.” - -Carey was standing by the door of Wilson Treadwell’s office. He did not -feel altogether comfortable, among so many elderly and obviously very -rich men. His diffidence was the saving of him for as the colonel passed -he paused and said, in a low voice: “Got your stock yet?” - -The customers in the corridor, men who, by the colonel’s advice, were -“carrying” from 500 to 10,000 shares each of Easton & Allentown, leaned -forward eagerly. All were men who north of Wall Street would not have -stooped to listen to others’ conversations if their lives depended on -it. In a broker’s office, when the leader of the stock market was -speaking, such notions were absurd, almost wicked. Certainly, at that -moment, twenty pairs of eyes were looking fixedly at the great leader of -the stock market and the young clerk. - -The colonel felt this intuitively. He confirmed it with a quick glance -of his sharp little eyes. He had not sold all his Easton & Allentown, -but was disposing of it just as fast as the market would take it. It was -not likely that the stock would go much higher. Wall Street, ever loath -to believe well of any stock operator, used to comment sneeringly on the -fact that the world heard much about the “Treadwell buying” but never a -word about the Treadwell selling. - -If the colonel gave a hint to the customers there would be an avalanche -of selling orders that would make the price of the stock break sharply, -and this would not benefit anyone. He had advised them to buy the stock -at 90 and at 95–-it was 105 now. He had more than done his duty. If they -did not sell out, in the hope of making more, it was their own lookout. - -But there was the boy with the one hundred shares, the pleasant little -clerk from up-the-State, who had brought in his entire fortune, his -accumulated savings of two hundred and ten dollars. He was a stranger to -Wall Street. But supposing he should tell that he had been advised to -sell? There would be the deuce to pay! - -The colonel took chances. Out of one corner of his mouth, so that he did -not even turn his head toward the boy and so that the watching customers -could not suspect what he was doing, he shot a quick whisper—a lob-sided -but philanthropic affair—at him: “Look at the color of your money, boy! -Take your profits and say nothing!” And he walked into the room where -the Suburban Trolley magnates awaited him impatiently. - -Carey, thrilled but taciturn, gave his order to sell his Easton & -Allentown, unsuspected by the mob. They sold it for him at 105⅛. -Deducting commissions and interest charges the colonel’s whisper had put -$1,050 in the young clerk’s pocket. - -And the stock went a little higher and then declined slowly to about 99. -The customers all made a great deal of money as it was, but not as much -as they would have “taken out” of the Easton & Allentown “deal” if they -had overheard that one of Colonel Treadwell’s many whispers—lob-sided -but philanthropic affairs! - - - - - THE MAN WHO WON - - -“Brown,” said Mr. John P. Greener, as he turned away from the ticker in -the corner, “I wish you would go over to the Board and see how the -market is for Iowa Midland. Find out how much stock there is for sale -and who has it. It ought to be pretty well distributed about the -Street.” - -“What’s up in it?” asked his partner, curiously. - -“Nothing—yet,” answered Greener, quietly. - -He sat down at his desk and took up a letter, headed “President’s -Office, Keokuk & Northern Railway Company, Keokuk, Iowa.” When he had -finished the entire sixteen closely written pages, he arose and paced -slowly up and down his office. - -He was a sallow-faced, black-bearded little man, slender—almost frail -looking—with a high but rather narrow forehead. His eyes were furtive, -shifty bits of brown light. He was thinking, and thinking to some -purpose. Any one, even a stranger, seeing him, would have known that he -was thinking of something big—the forehead was responsible for the -impression; and also of something tricky, unscrupulous, cold-blooded—his -eyes were to blame there. At length his brow cleared. He muttered: “I -must have that road. Then, a consolidation with my Keokuk & Northern; -and a new system that will endure as long as the country!” - -Brown returned in a half hour and reported. There was very little stock -for sale below $42 a share—a few small lots held by unimportant -commission houses. The vendible supply increased at 44, and at 46 -“inside stock would come out,” which, translated into plain English, -meant that whenever the price of Iowa Midland Railway Company stock rose -to $46 per share, directors of the company or close friends of theirs -would be found willing to part with their holdings. It was thus evident -that the greater part of such stock of the Iowa Midland as the Street -was “carrying” speculatively was not for sale at such a price as would -be regarded in the light of a great bargain by Mr. John F. Greener, -president _de facto_ of the rival Keokuk & Northern Railway, but better -known to countless “lambs” and widows and orphans and brother financiers -as the Napoleon of the Street. - -“Any supporting orders?” piped Greener. Stocks are “supported,” or -bought on declines, so that the price shall not go down too much, and -above all not too quickly. - -“Bagley has orders to buy 300 shares every quarter of a point down until -37 is reached, and then to take 5,000 shares at that figure. He got them -direct from Willetts himself.” Bagley was a broker who made a specialty -of dealing in Iowa Midland. Willetts was the president of the company. - -“Willetts,” squeaked Greener, “was in Council Bluffs this morning. He is -to take part in the ceremonies of unveiling the Soldiers’ Monument, -which begin at one o’clock—that is, within twenty minutes, allowing for -difference in time. He will be out of the reach of the telegraph for the -afternoon.” - -Brown laughed. “No wonder they are afraid of you.” - -“Brown,” said Greener, “start the movement by selling 10,000 shares of -Iowa Midland. Divide it up among the boys on the floor. It would be well -if the room were frightened by the selling. It is more important for us -to get the price down than to put out shorts at high figures. I want -that stock down.” If he had merely desired to sell the stock “short” he -would have gone about it carefully, to disturb the price as little as -possible. - -“If you want that I think you’ll get it,” said Brown. As he was going -out Mr. Greener squeaked after him: “Keep them guessing, Brown; keep -them guessing.” - -“That,” mused Mr. John F. Greener, “ought to mean a three-or four-point -break in Iowa Midland at the very least, and perhaps we can work through -the peg at 37. We’ll see.” By the “peg” he meant the figure at which the -supporting orders to buy were heaviest. - -A few minutes later the Iowa Midland “post” on the floor of the Stock -Exchange was surrounded by a dozen puzzled and apprehensive but -gentlemanly brokers. And still a few minutes later the same spot was a -seething whirlpool of maniacal humanity. It was appalling, the sight of -these gesticulating, yelling, fighting, coat-tearing, fisticuffing -brokers—appalling and vulgar, selfish, unpleasant, ungentlemanly but -eminently typical. And all that caused the transformation was the fact -that Mr. Brown had been seen whispering to Harry Wilson, and Harry -Wilson had left him, gone to the Iowa Midland crowd, and sold 1,000 -shares at 42⅛ and 42. Then Mr. Brown had been seen speaking with W. G. -Carleton in what struck witnesses as being a more or less agitated -manner, and later Carleton had sauntered carelessly over to the Iowa -Midland precinct, and, after displaying very great indifference about -the world in general, but most particularly about the market for Iowa -Midland, had sold 1,500 shares to Bagley, the specialist, at 41¾, 41⅝, -and 41½. Mr. Brown was now watched by two or three scores of sharp eyes, -all having the same expression. And he was observed to look about him -apprehensively and then begin to converse with Frank J. Pratt; whereupon -Pratt, as fast as his fat legs would carry him, hastened to “Iowa -Midland” and sold 2,000 shares at an average price of 41. The observant -eyes had by this taken on a new expression—of indecision; but when they -beheld Mr. Brown anxiously beckon to his “particular” friend, Dan -Simpson, and saw shrill-voiced Dan rush like mad into the increasing -crowd and sell 5,000 shares of Iowa Midland, apparently regardless of -price, the observant eyes ceased to observe Brown. Activity was -transferred to their owners’ throats as they thought to emulate Simpson -and the rest of the Brown “whisperees.” Everybody scented danger, -especially as the same “whisperees” had not “given up” the name of Brown -& Greener as the real sellers, but had sold as though each Brown-talked -man was acting for himself—which every other man in the room knew was -out of the question, and which, in turn, increased the general -uneasiness. It was a confident and yet a mystifying movement. It became -more maddeningly perplexing when certain brokers, believed to be “close -to the inside,” also began to sell the stock. Everybody started to do -likewise. And everybody asked the same question—“What’s the matter?”—and -received an avalanche of answers, all different but all unfavorable. One -man said it was crop failures, another mentioned divers kinds of bugs, a -third asserted it was extensive wash-outs and ruinous landslides, and -bankrupting attacks by a socialistic legislature, and receivership -probabilities. - -Each of these was a good and sufficient reason why Iowa Midland stock -should be sold. The comparison is odiously trite, but the growth of an -adverse rumor in Wall Street really resembles nothing so much as the -traditional snowball rolling down a hillside and becoming larger and -larger as it rolls, until it is huge, terrific, with appalling -possibilities for evil. - -The Board Room became Iowa-Midland-mad. Speculators often stampede—just -like other animals. No stock can withstand their rush to sell, even -though it be “protected” or “supported” by its manipulators, much less a -stock like Iowa Midland, whose market sponsor was out of town, and out -of reach of the telegraph. - -From all over the room men rushed to Brown, who was sitting calmly at -the Erie “post,” chatting pleasantly with a friend. - -“Brown, what’s up in Iowa Midland?” one of them asked, feverishly. The -others listened eagerly. - -Brown might have said, “I don’t know,” rudely, and turned his back on -them. But he did not. He responded jocularly: “It seems to me that -something is down in Iowa Midland, that something being about three -points, I should say. Ha! ha!” - -By this time nearly all the listeners had concluded that, since Brown -refused to tell, there must be something serious—something very serious. -Brown obviously was still selling the stock through other brokers, and -would keep the bad news to himself until he had marketed his “line.” -After that, probably he would become interestingly garrulous. They -therefore advised their respective offices to get rid of their Iowa -Midland stock. It might be all right; but it might be all wrong. And it -was going down fast. - -Mr. Greener in his office was looking at the “tape” as it came out of -the little electrical printing machine that records the transactions and -prices. - -The sallow-faced little man permitted himself a slight—a very -slight—smile. The tape showed: “IA. MID., 1000. 39; 300. 38¾; 500. ⅝; -300. ½; 200. ⅜; ¼; 300. 38.” - -He turned away to summon a clerk, to whom he said: “Mr. Rock, please -send for Mr. Coolidge. Make haste.” - -“Very well, sir.” - -A portly, white-waistcoated, white-haired man, with snow-white, -short-cropped side whiskers, burst unceremoniously into the room. - -“How do you do, Mr. Ormiston?” squeaked Greener, cordially. - -“Greener,” panted the portly man, “what’s the matter with Iowa Midland?” - -“How should I know?” in a half-complaining, half-petulant squeak. - -“Brown started the selling. I saw it myself. Greener, I did you a good -turn once in Central District Telegraph. I’m long 6,000 shares of this -Iowa Midland. For God’s sake, man, if you know anything——” - -“Mr. Ormiston, all I know is what I learn from my confidential reports -of the Iowa crop. Along the line of the Keokuk & Northern the crop is -not what I hoped for.” And he shook his head dolefully. - -“_Ticky-ticky-ticky tick!_” said the ticker, calmly. - -The portly man approached the little machine. -“Thirty-seven-and-an-eighth. Thirty-seven!” he shouted. “Great Scott! -she’s going down like a——” He did not finish the comparison, but rushed -out of the office without pausing to say good-by. At one o’clock his -6,000 shares at $42½ represented $255,000. Now, at two o’clock, at $37, -the same stock would fetch about $222,000. A depreciation of $33,000 in -an hour is apt to make one neglectful of the little niceties. An -additional un-nicety was the obvious fact that an attempt to sell 6,000 -shares on a declining market would inevitably cause a still further -drop. Mr. Ormiston was excusable. - -Again Mr. Greener summoned a confidential clerk. - -“Mr. Rock,” he squeaked, placidly, “telephone Mr. Brown that Ormiston, -Monkhouse & Co. are about to sell 6,000 shares of Iowa Midland, and that -Mr. Coolidge must not pay more than 35 for it.” - -“Mr. Coolidge is in your private room, sir,” announced an office-boy. - -The little financier, with an expressionless, sallow face, confronted -his chief confidential broker. Their relations were unsuspected by the -Street. Everybody thought Coolidge was a pleasant and honorable man. - -“Coolidge, go to the Board at once. Ormiston is going to sell 6,000 -shares of Iowa Midland. Get it as cheap as you can. Don’t be in a hurry, -though.” - -“How much shall I buy?” asked the broker, jotting down a few figures in -his order book. - -“As much as you can; all that is offered below 37,” squeaked the -Napoleon of the Street. It was a Napoleonic order. “And, Coolidge, I -don’t want this known by any one. Clear the stock yourself.” It meant -that Mr. Coolidge was to put the stock through the Clearing House in his -own name. As there is a charge for this service, in addition to the -usual buying or selling commission, such steps are not resorted to -unless it is desired to conceal the identity of the broker’s principal, -should the latter be a fellow-member of the Exchange. - -“Very well, Mr. Greener. Good-morning.” And the broker went out on a -run. “Whew!” he whistled when he was in the Street on his way to the -Stock Exchange, a few doors below. “Brown & Greener must be short at -least 50,000 or 60,000 shares.” This was five times too much. But it -showed that Mr. Greener was impartial in his distribution of erroneous -impressions. He wanted to accumulate the stock rather than “cover” a -short line; but there was no reason why even his most trusted broker -should know it. - -Ormiston’s 6,000 shares found their way to Mr. Coolidge’s office at from -34⅞ to 35¾. Mr. Brown in the meantime had succeeded in forcing down the -prices by the usual tricks. The man who once had done Greener a good -turn now did him another—the gift of $40,000! - -In addition, Coolidge, employing several brokers, purchased 23,000 -shares in all, which meant that Mr. Greener, after “covering” Brown’s -early “short sales,” was in possession of fully 14,000 shares of the -common stock of the Iowa Midland Railway Company, at a price averaging -nearly 6 points lower than they could have been bought on the preceding -day, which is to say $75,000 cheaper. - -But Brown & Greener had made as much on their short sales, which was -actually equivalent to having the lambs pay a man for the privilege of -being shorn by him! - -Such was the first of a series of skirmishes by means of which the -diminutive Napoleon of the Street captured the floating supply of Iowa -Midland stock, until he had no less than 65,000 shares safe in his -clutches. - -All the old tricks that he knew and new devices he invented were used to -hide from the Street the fact that Mr. Greener was buying the stock on -every opportunity. But beyond a certain limit extensive purchases of a -particular stock cannot be concealed from the thousand shrewd men who -make their living—a very good living, indeed—by not being blind. First -one thing, then another, told these men that some powerful financier or -group of financiers had bought enormously of Iowa Midland, “absorbing” -unostentatiously all the stock shaken out by the violent fluctuations of -the past few months. This fact and the remarkable improvement of -business along the line of the road caused a “substantial rise” in the -price of the company’s securities. But no one suspected the little -Napoleon with the shifty eyes and the squeak and the genius, who had -bought in the open market, through unsuspected brokers, and in Iowa from -the local holders, by means of secret agents, until he had accumulated -78,600 shares. - -Brown said to his partner one day, a little uneasily: “Supposing we -can’t get any more stock, what are we going to do with what we have?” To -try to sell it, however carefully, would be sure to break the market. - -“Brown,” squeaked the little man, plaintively, “I have concluded that in -case I can’t get enough stock to bring Willetts and his crowd”—the -president of the Iowa Midland and his fellow-directors—“to my way of -thinking, we had better sell the block we now hold to the Keokuk & -Northern Railway Company at the market price of $68 a share. Perhaps we -could even run it up a little higher. Our stock cost us on an average -$51 a share. We could take our payment one half in cash and half in -first mortgage bonds at a fair discount. The deal would be highly -beneficial to the Keokuk & Northern Company, since, having such a large -block of her rival’s stock, there would be no more fighting and -rate-cutting. Our company would be a powerful factor in the Iowa -Midland’s affairs, for we ought to have two or possibly three directors -in their board.” - -“Greener,” said Brown, “shake!” - -“Oh, no; not yet,” squeaked the little man, deprecatingly. - -Shortly afterward began a campaign of hostility against the management -of the Iowa Midland Railway Company and President Willetts in -particular. It was a bitter campaign of defamation, of ingenious -accusations, and of alarming prognostications. All the newspapers, -important or obscure, subsidized or honest, began to print articles of -the kind technically known as “roasts.” The road, it was declared, had -escaped a receivership by a sheer miracle. President Willetts’s -incompetence was stupendous and incurable. There was, in sooth, some -basis for the complaints, and many stockholders were undoubtedly -dissatisfied with the Willetts “dynasty.” But not even the newspapers -themselves knew that they were merely moving in response to wires -artistically pulled by a financial genius of the first water. The stock -once more declined. Not knowing who was fighting him, President Willetts -was unable to defend himself effectively. Many timid or disgusted -holders sold out. Mr. Greener gave no sign of life; but his brokers -bought the stock offered for sale. - -At length a well-known and talkative broker confided to an intimate -friend, who told his intimate friend in confidence, who whispered to his -chum, who told, etc., etc., that Mr. John F. Greener had been -responsible for the fall and rise of Iowa Midland stock; that for months -he had been buying it on the Stock Exchange; that he had quietly picked -up some large blocks in Iowa. All of which was very sad, and, worse -still, true. Also, that Mr. Greener now held 182,300 shares of the -stock, which was even sadder, but untrue. - -It really was very well done. The annual meeting of the company was only -six weeks away. - -The reporters rushed to Mr. Greener’s office. The little financier would -not be seen. At length he reluctantly consented to be interviewed. He -admitted, after a skilful display of unwillingness, that he had bought -Iowa Midland stock. As to the amount, he said that was not of interest -to the general public. The reporters finally cornered him and succeeded -in making the little financier say, with a fleeting and very peculiar -smile: “Yes; it _is_ over 100,000 shares.” And not another word could -the newspaper men get out of him. - -Being an intelligent man, he never lied for publication. Each reporter -who saw that smile and the furtive look that accompanied it went away -convinced to the life-wagering point that Mr. John F. Greener was in -control of the Iowa Midland. And they wrote accordingly. - -President Willetts all but had an apoplectic stroke. The Street -disgustedly said: “Another successful, villainous plot of Greener’s!” -And such was his reputation as an “absorber” of roads and roads’ profits -that the stock declined ten points in two days. Investors and -speculators alike displayed a frantic desire not to be identified in any -way or manner with one of Mr. Greener’s properties. - -The little financier had not been mistaken. His last card was his own -evil reputation! He had reserved it for the end. On the wide-spread fear -that followed his broker’s artistic “indiscretion” he was able to -“scoop” 32,000 shares more at low figures. Such is the value of fame! - -He now held 110,600 shares, or one third of the Iowa Midland Railroad -Company’s entire capital stock—enough to coerce Willetts into making -very profitable arrangements with Mr. Greener’s Keokuk & Northern -Railway Company. Of course the absolute control of the Iowa Midland was -best of all, if it only could be secured. But of this the sallow-faced -little man with the high forehead and the shifty eyes was doubtful. He -confessed as much to Brown, ending with: “It’s a shame, too. I could -make so much out of that property!” - -He estimated—it had cost him $11,000 to secure the necessary data—that -Willetts and his clique held 105,000 shares, so that there were still -122,000 shares unaccounted for—probably scattered among small investors -throughout the country, who did not care who managed the road so long as -they received pleasant promises of dividends, and also among banking -houses and anti-Greener men, who, though they did not approve of -Willetts, disapproved even more emphatically and vehemently of Greener -and his methods. - -If he could not buy the stock itself he must try to secure proxies. - -He knew that some of the trust companies held a fair amount of the -longed-for stock. He laid siege to them. He bombarded them with promises -and poured an enfilading fire of pledges so honorable, so eminently -sound and business-like, as to pierce the armor of their distrust. In -the end they actually grew to believe that they were acting wisely when -they pledged their support to Mr. Greener. The guarantee he gave them -seemed ironclad, and they agreed to give him their proxies whenever he -should send for them. - -He called his clerk Rock and told him: “Go to the Rural Trust Company -and to the Commercial Loan & Trust Company. See Mr. Roberts and Mr. -Morgan. They will give you some Iowa Midland proxies made out to -Frederick Rock or John F. Greener.” - -Rock was a good-looking, quiet chap, with a very well-shaped head and a -resolute chin. His manners were pleasing. He had a habit of looking one -straight in the eyes, but did not always succeed thereby in conveying an -impression of straightforwardness. But he certainly impressed one as -being bold and keen. His fellow-clerks used to say that Rock spent his -spare time in studying the financial operations of the Napoleon of the -Street with the same care and minuteness that military students go over -the campaigns of Napoleon Bonaparte—which was the truth. - -“Mr. Greener,” said Rock, “you are carrying 110,000 shares of stock, are -you not?” - -“Eh?” squeaked Greener, innocently. - -“I figure that, unless you are doing something outside this office, you -will need proxies for 50,000 shares more to give you absolute control -and elect your own board of directors and carry out your plans in -connection with Keokuk & Northern.” - -Not by so much as the twinkling of an eye did the little man betray that -he was interested in Rock’s words, or that the clerk’s meddling with the -firm’s affairs was at all out of the ordinary. - -“Mr. Greener,” said the clerk, very earnestly, “I should like to try to -get them for you.” - -“Yes?” he squeaked, absent-mindedly. - -“Yes, sir,” answered Rock. - -“Go ahead, then,” said Mr. Greener, carelessly. “Let me know next week -how you are getting on.” - -An expression of disappointment came into Rock’s face, whereupon Greener -added: “Of course if you succeed I’ll do well by you.” - -“What will you do, Mr. Greener?” asked the clerk, looking straight at -him. - -“I’ll give you,” he squeaked, encouragingly, “ten thousand dollars.” - -“Is that a good price for the work, Mr. Greener? I may have to pay out a -great deal,” added the young clerk with a faint touch of bitterness. - -“It is all that it is worth to me, Mr. Rock, and I think it is worth -more to me than to anybody else. I’ll raise your salary from sixteen -hundred to two thousand a year. That’s a great deal more money than I -had at your age, Mr. Rock.” - -“Very well,” said Rock, quietly. “I’ll do the best I can.” But once away -from Greener, his face flushed with anger and indignation. “Ten thousand -for what might be worth ten millions to the financier!” The clerk had -studied Greener’s Napoleonic methods for two years. He had learned -patience for one thing, and he had waited for his chance. It had come at -last, and he knew it. - -Events make the man. Rock had thought carefully, intelligently, and, -best of all, coolly. He had planned logically. It was a good plan; it -was the only feasible plan, and it could not be upset by meddlesome -courts. How Mr. John F. Greener had failed to think of the same plan was -a bit strange. The unscrupulousness of it did not frighten the clerk. He -had the instincts of a financier of the Greener school. - -The clerk all that week did nothing but collect the Iowa Midland proxies -promised by the complaisant trust companies. They amounted to 21,200 -shares. From prominent brokerage houses, by means of alluring and -unauthorized promises, he secured 7,100 shares; in all he had 28,300 -shares. This meant that at the approaching annual meeting Mr. Greener -could vote 138,900 shares out of a possible total of 320,000. Unless the -opposition could unite, the election was already sure to “go Mr. -Greener’s way.” - -From time to time, when the little financier would ask Rock how he was -progressing, the clerk would tell him he was doing as well as could be -expected. He also told Mr. Greener that the trust companies had given -only 14,000 shares, and he said nothing whatever of the 7,100 shares he -had secured from the friendly brokers. It was a desperate risk, this -concealing from Mr. Greener how well he had done; but the clerk was -bold. - -The moment Rock became convinced that there were no more pro-Greener -proxies to be had by hook or crook, he began his attack on the enemy. -His problem was to capture the anti-Greener votes—or stock. He proceeded -to put his plan into effect. And the plan of this healthy clerk with the -unflinching eyes and the resolute chin was worthy of the sallow-faced -little man with the furtive look and the great forehead. - -“It is a case of _heads I win; tails you lose_,” Rock muttered to -himself, exultingly. - -The young man presented himself forthwith at the office of Weddell, -Hopkins & Co., prominent bankers and bitter enemies of Mr. John F. -Greener and his methods. They knew Rock as one of the confidential -clerks of Brown & Greener, and he had no difficulty in securing an -audience from Mr. Weddell. - -“Good-morning, Mr. Weddell.” - -“Good-morning, sir,” said the banker, coldly. “I must say I’m somewhat -surprised at the presumption of your people in sending you to me.” - -“Mr. Weddell,” said Rock, a trifle too eagerly to be artistic, “I’ve -left the firm of Brown & Greener. They were,” he added, youthfully, “too -rascally for me.” - -Mr. Weddell’s face froze solid. He feared an application for a position. - -“Ye-es?” he said. His voice matched his face in frigidity. - -“Mr. Weddell,” said the young clerk, looking straight into the old -banker’s eyes, “you in common with other honest men have been wishing -you could prevent Mr. Greener from wrecking the Iowa Midland. Now, Mr. -Weddell,” he went on, eagerly, as the enthusiasm of the plan grew upon -him, “I know all about Mr. Greener’s plans and resources and I want you -to help me fight him. If you do we will win, sure.” - -“How will you go about it?” asked the old banker, evasively. He was not -certain this was not some trick of the versatile Mr. John F. Greener. - -“Mr. Greener,” answered young Rock, “has not control of the property. He -has only 110,600 shares. I had access to the books, and I know to a -share.” - -“I don’t wish you to betray an employer’s secrets, even though he may be -my enemy. I do not care to hear any more.” He was an old-fashioned -banker, was Mr. Weddell. - -“I am not betraying any secrets. He himself said he had over 100,000 -shares, and all the reporters jumped at the conclusion that he had -actually a controlling interest. And that is what he will have, unless -you help me. I have proxies here for 28,300 shares from trust companies -and commission houses. My plan is to get all the proxies I can from the -anti-Greener and the anti-Willetts stockholders. Then we can make Mr. -Willetts give us pledges in black and white to inaugurate the -much-needed reforms and stop his policy of extravagance and his costly -traffic arrangements. Willetts will do it to save himself and the road -from falling into Greener’s hands. But there’s no time to lose, Mr. -Weddell.” The excitement of the game he was playing stimulated him like -wine. - -“And you?” queried the old banker, meaningly. “Where do _you_ come in?” -The insinuation was his last weapon. The young man’s was really the only -feasible plan that he could see. - -“I? It might be, Mr. Weddell, that after the election I could be -appointed assistant secretary of the company, as an evidence of good -faith on the part of the reform management. I can keep tabs on them and -represent the Weddell-Hopkins interest. The salary,” he added, with -truly artistic significance, “could be $5,000 a year. I have been -getting just one-half that.” His salary was exactly $1,600; but why -minimize one’s commercial value? - -The old banker walked up and down.... - -“By gad, sir, you shall have our proxies,” said Mr. Weddell, at length. - -“It would be well not to let Mr. Greener suspect this,” added Rock. And -the banker agreed with him. - -Weddell, Hopkins & Co. held 14,000 shares of Iowa Midland stock, and on -the next day Rock received their proxies. Coming from so well-known, so -notoriously anti-Greener a house, they served as credentials to him, and -he was able to convince many doubting Thomases. He secured proxies from -practically all the anti-Greener stock held in the city, as well as in -Philadelphia and Boston. - -His day-long absences from the office aroused no suspicions there, since -everybody thought he was working in the interest of Brown & Greener, -including Messrs. Brown & Greener. All told, the proxies he had secured -from Mr. Greener’s friends and from his foes amounted to 61,830 shares. -It was really a remarkable performance. He felt very proud of it. As to -consequences, he had carefully weighed them. He was working for -Frederick Rock. He was bound to succeed, on whichever side the coin came -down. - -Mr. Greener called him into the private office. - -“Mr. Rock, how about those Iowa Midland proxies?” - -“I have them safe,” answered the clerk, a bit defiantly. - -“How many?” - -Rock pulled out a piece of paper, though he knew the figures by heart. -He said, in a tone he endeavored to make nonchalant: “I have exactly -61,830 shares.” - -“What? What?” The Napoleon’s voice overflowed with astonishment. - -Rock looked straight into Greener’s shifty brown eyes. “I said,” he -repeated, “that I had proxies for 61,830 shares.” - -Mr. Greener remembered himself. “I congratulate you, Mr. Rock, on -keeping your word. You will find I keep mine equally well,” he said in -his normal squeak. - -“We may as well have an understanding now as any other time, Mr. -Greener.” Rock’s eyes did not leave the sallow face of the great -railroad wrecker. He knew he had crossed the Rubicon. He was fighting -for his future, for the prosperity of his dreams. And he was fighting a -giant of giants. All this the clerk thought; and the thought braced him -wonderfully. He became self-possessed, discriminating—a Napoleonic bud -about to burst into full bloom. - -“What do you mean?” squeaked Mr. Greener, naïvely. - -Mr. Brown entered. He was just in time to hear the clerk say: “You have, -all told, 110,000 shares of Iowa Midland. President Willetts and his -crowd control about the same amount.” - -“Yes,” said the sallow-faced little man. His forehead was moist—barely -moist—with perspiration, but his face was expressionless. His eyes were -less furtive; that was all. He was looking intently now at the young -clerk, for he understood. - -“Well, some of the proxies stand in the name of Frederick Rock or John -F. Greener, but the greater part in my name alone. I can vote the entire -lot as I please. And whichever side I vote for will have an absolute -majority. Mr. Greener, I have the naming of the directors, and therefore -of the president of the Iowa Midland. And you can’t prevent me; and you -can’t touch me; and you can’t do a d—d thing to me!” he ended, -defiantly. It was nearly all superfluous, inartistic. But, youth—a -defect one overcomes with time! - -“You infernal scoundrel!” shouted Mr. Brown. He had a short, thick neck, -and anger made his face dangerously purple. - -“I secured most of the proxies,” continued Rock, in a tone that savored -slightly of self-defence, “by assuring Weddell, Hopkins & Co. and their -friends that I would vote against Mr. Greener.” He paused. - -“Go ahead, Mr. Rock,” squeaked Mr. Greener; “don’t be afraid to talk.” -The pale little man with the black beard and the high forehead not only -had a great genius for finance, but possessed wonderful nerve. His -squeak was an inconsistency; but it served to make him human. - -“You offered me $10,000 cash and $2,000 a year.” - -“Yes,” admitted Mr. Greener, meekly. “How much do you want?” His look -became furtive again. A great weight had been removed from his mind. -Rock perceived it and became even more courageous. - -“Weddell, Hopkins & Co. and their friends want me to vote the Willetts -ticket, Mr. Willetts having promised to make important reforms. My -reward is to be the position of assistant secretary, with headquarters -in New York, at a salary of $5,000 a year, to say nothing of the backing -of Weddell, Hopkins & Co.” - -“I’ll do as much and give you $20,000 in cash,” said Mr. Greener, -quietly. - -“No. I want to join the New York Stock Exchange. I want you to buy me a -seat and I want you to give me some of your business. And I want you to -lend me $50,000 on my note.” - -“Yes?” - -“Mr. Greener, you know what I can do; and I know what the absolute -control of the Iowa Midland means to you, and what the consolidation -with Keokuk & Northern or the lease of the one by the other would do for -both of them—and for you. And I want to be your broker. I’ll serve you -faithfully, Mr. Greener.” - -“Rock,” squeaked Mr. Greener, “shake hands. I understand just how you -feel about this. I’ll buy you a seat and I’ll give you all the business -I can, and I’ll lend you $100,000 without any note. I think I know you -now. The seat you shall have just as soon as it can be bought. My -interests shall be your interests in the future.” - -“I’ve made all the necessary arrangements. I can buy the seat at a -moment’s notice,” said Rock, calmly, though his heart was beating wildly -for sheer joy of victory. “It will cost $23,000.” - -“Tell Mr. Simpson to make out my personal check for $25,000,” piped the -Napoleon of the Street, almost cordially. - -“Th-thank you very much, Mr. Greener,” stammered the bold clerk. “The -proxies——” - -“Oh, that’s all right,” interrupted Mr. John F. Greener. “You’ll go to -Des Moines with us. You’re one of us now. I’ve long wanted a man like -you. But, Rock, nowadays, young men are either gamblers or fools,” he -added, with a final plaintive squeak. - -A week later Mr. Greener was elected president of the Iowa Midland -Railway Company and Mr. Rock was elected a member of the New York Stock -Exchange. - - - - - THE LOST OPPORTUNITY - - -For many years Daniel Dittenhoeffer had desired the ruin of John F. -Greener. “Dutch Dan,” as the Street called Dittenhoeffer was a burly man -with very blonde hair, a very red nose and a very loud voice. Greener -was a sallow, swarthy bit of a man, with black hair and a squeaky voice. -He had furtive brown eyes and a very high forehead; while Dittenhoeffer -had frank blue eyes and the pugnacious chin and thick neck of a prize -fighter. Both were members of the New York Stock Exchange but Greener -was never seen on the “floor” after one of his victims lifted him bodily -by the collar and dropped him fifteen feet into a coal cellar on -Exchange Place. He would plan the wrecks of railroad systems as a -measure preliminary to their absorption, just as a boa constrictor -crushes its victims into pulp the more easily to swallow them. But the -practice, unchecked for years, had made him nervous and soul-fidgetty. - -Dan spent his days from 10 to 3 on the Stock Exchange and his nights -from 10 to 3 at the roulette tables or before a faro lay-out. Restless -as the quivering sea and suffering from chronic insomnia, he had -perforce to satisfy his constitutional craving for powerful stimulants, -but as he hated delirium tremens he gave himself ceaselessly big doses -of the wine of gambling—it does as much for the nerves as the very best -whiskey. He would buy or sell 50,000 shares of a stock and he would bet -$50,000 on the turn of a card. On an occasion he offered to wager a -fortune that he could guess which of two flies that had alit on a table -would be the first to fly away. Greener found, in the Stock Exchange, -the means to a desired end. Despite innumerable bits of stock jobbing, -he had no exalted opinion, in his heart of hearts, of stock operations. -But Dittenhoeffer thought the stock market was the court of last resort, -whither financiers should go, when they were in the right, to get their -deserts; and when they were in the wrong to overcome their deserts by -the brute force of dollars. It was natural that in their operations in -the market the two men should be as dissimilar as they were in their -physical and temperamental characteristics—Machiavelli and Richard -Cœur-de-Lion. - -Nobody knew exactly how the enmity between Greener and Dittenhoeffer -began. The “Little Napoleon of Railroading” had felt toward Dutch Dan a -certain passive hostility for interference with sundry stock market -deals. But Dan hated Greener madly, probably for the same reason that a -hawk may have for hating a snake: the instinctive antipathy of the -utterly dissimilar. - -Scores of men had tried to “bust” Greener, but Greener had grown the -richer by their efforts, the growth of his fortune being proportionate -to the contraction of theirs. Sam Sharpe had come from Arizona with -$12,000,000 avowedly to show the effete East how to crush “financial -skunks of the Greener class.” And the financial skunk learned no new -lesson, though the privilege of imagining he was giving one cost Sharpe -a half-million a month for nearly one year. Then, after Sharpe had -learned more of the game—and of Greener—he joined hands with -Dittenhoeffer and together they attacked Greener. They were skilful -stock operators, very rich and utterly without financial fear. And they -loathed Greener. In a more gorgeous age they would have cut the Little -Napoleon to pieces and passed his roasted heart on a platter around the -festive board. In the colorless XIX century they were fain to content -themselves with endeavoring to despoil him of his tear-stained millions; -to do which they united their own smile-wreathed millions—some seven or -eight of them—and opened fire. Their combined fortune was divided into -ten projectiles and one after another hurled at the little man with the -squeaky voice and the high forehead. The little man dodged the first and -the second and the third, but the fourth broke his leg and the fifth -knocked the wind out of him. The Street cheered and showed its -confidence in the artillerists by going short of the Greener stocks. But -just before the sixth shot Greener called to his assistance old Wilbur -Wise, the man with the skin-flinty heart and thirty millions in cash. A -protecting rampart, man-high, of government bonds was raised about the -prostrate Napoleon and the financial cannoneers ceased firing precious -projectiles. The new fortifications were impregnable and they knew it; -so they contented themselves with gathering up their own shot and a -small railroad or two dropped by Greener in his haste to seek shelter. -Then Sharpe went to England to win the Derby and Dittenhoeffer went to -Long Branch to amuse himself playing a no-limit faro game that cost him -on an average $10,000 a night for a month. - -There was a period of peace in Wall Street following the last encounter -between the diminutive Napoleon and Dutch Dan. But after a few months -the fight resumed. Greener was desirous of “bulling” his stocks -generally and his pet, Federal Telegraph Company, particularly. Just to -show there was no need to hurry the “bull” or upward movement Dan sold -the stock “short” every time Greener tried to advance the price. Four -times did Greener try and four times Dittenhoeffer sold him a few -thousand shares—just enough to check the advance. Up to a certain point -a manipulator of stocks is successful. His manipulation may comprise -many ingenious and complex actions and devices, but the elemental fact -in bull manipulation is to buy more than the other fellow can or wishes -to sell. Greener was willing to buy, but Dan was even more willing to -sell. - -Greener really was in desperate straits. He was committed to many -important enterprises. To carry them out he needed cash and the banks, -fearful of stock market possibilities, were loath to lend him enough. -Besides which, there was the desire on the part of the banks’ directors -to pick up fine bargains should their refusal to lend Greener money -force him to throw overboard the greater part of his load. Greener had -despoiled innumerable widows and orphans in his railroad wrecking -schemes. The money lenders should avenge the widows and orphans. It was -a good deed. There was not a doubt of it in their minds. - -Federal Telegraph, in which Greener’s commitments were heaviest, had -been slowly sinking. Successful in other quarters of the market, Dutch -Dan decided to “whack the everlasting daylights out of Fed. Tel.” He -went about it calmly, just as he played roulette—selling it -methodically, ceaselessly, depressingly. And the price wilted. Greener, -unsuccessful in other quarters of the Street, decided it was time to do -something to save himself. He needed only $5,000,000. At a pinch -$3,000,000 might do; or, for the moment, even $2,500,000. But he must -have the money at once. Delay meant danger and danger meant -Dittenhoeffer and Dittenhoeffer might mean death. - -Of a sudden, rising from nowhere, fathered by no one, the rumor whirled -about the Street that Greener was in difficulties. Financial ghouls ran -to the banks and interviewed the presidents. They asked no questions in -order to get no lies. They simply said, as though they knew: “Greener is -on his uppers.” - -The bank presidents smiled, indulgently, almost pityingly: “Oh, you’ve -just heard it, have you? We’ve known it for six weeks!” - -Back to the Stock Exchange rushed the ghouls to sell the Greener -stocks—not Federal Telegraph which was really a good property, but his -reorganized roads, whose renascence was so recent that they had not -grown into full strength. Down went prices and up went the whisper: -“Dittenhoeffer’s got Greener at last!” - -A thousand brokers rushed to find their dear friend Dan to congratulate -him—Napoleon’s conqueror, the hero of the hour, the future dispenser of -liberal commissions, but dear Dan could not be found. He was not on the -“floor” of the Exchange nor at his office. - -Some one had sought Dittenhoeffer before the brokers thought of -congratulating him—some one who was the greatest gambler of all, greater -even than Dutch Dan—a little man with furtive brown eyes and a squeaky -voice; also a wonderful forehead: Mr. John F. Greener. - -“Mr. Dittenhoeffer, I sent for you to ask you a question,” he squeaked, -calmly. He stood beside a garrulous ticker. - -“Certainly, Mr. Greener.” And Dittenhoeffer instantly had a vision of -humble requests to “let up.” And he almost formulated the very words of -a withering refusal. - -“Would you execute an order from me?” - -“Certainly, Mr. Greener. I’ll execute anybody’s orders. I’m a broker.” - -“Very well. Sell 50,000 shares of Federal Telegraph Company for me.” - -“What price?” jotting down the figures, from force of habit, his mind -being paralyzed. - -“The best you can get. The stock,” glancing at the tape, “is 91.” - -“Very well.” - -The two men looked at one another—Dutch Dan half menacingly, Greener, -calmly, steadily, his furtive eyes almost truthful. - -“Good-morning,” said Dittenhoeffer at length and the little man’s -high-browed head nodded dismissingly. - -Dittenhoeffer hastened back to the Exchange. At the entrance he met his -partner, Smith—the “Co.” of D. Dittenhoeffer & Co. - -“Bill, I’ve just got an order from Greener to sell 50,000 shares of -Federal Telegraph.” - -“Wh-what?” gasped Smith. - -“Greener sent for me, asked me whether I’d accept an order from him, I -said yes, and he told me to sell 50,000 shares of Telegraph, and I’m——” - -“You’ve got him, Dan. You’ve got him,” exultantly. - -“I’m going to cover my 20,000 shares with the first half of the order -and sell the rest the best I can.” - -“Man alive, this is your chance! Don’t you see you’ve got him? Smilie of -the Eastern National Bank tells me there isn’t a bank in the city will -lend Greener money, and he needs it badly to pay the last $10,000,000 to -the Indian Pacific bondholders. He’s bit off more than he can chew, damn -‘im!” - -“Well, Bill, we’ll treat Mr. Greener as we do any other customer,” said -Dittenhoeffer. - -“But—” began Smith, with undisguised consternation; he was an honest -man, when away from the Street. - -“Oh, I’ll get him yet. This won’t save him. I’ll get him yet,” with a -confident smile. - -It would have been very easy for him to take advantage of Greener’s -order to make a fortune. He was short 20,000 shares which he had put out -at an average price of 93. He could have taken Greener’s block of 50,000 -shares and hurled it bodily at the market. Not even a gilt-edge stock -could withstand the impact of such a fearful blow, and the price of -Federal Telegraph doubtless would have broken 15 points or more, and he -could easily have taken in his shorts at 75 or possibly even at -70–-which would have meant a profit of a half-million of dollars—and a -loss of a much needed million to his arch-foe, Greener. And if he -allowed his partner to whisper in strict confidence to some friend how -Dan was selling out a big line of Telegraph for Greener the “Room” would -have gone wild and everybody would have hastened to sell and the decline -would have gone so much further as to cripple the little Napoleon -possibly beyond all hope of recovery. Had Greener made the most colossal -mistake of his life in giving the order to his enemy? - -Dan went to the Federal Telegraph post where a score of madmen were -shouting at the top of their voices the prices they were willing to pay -or to accept for varying amounts of the stock. He gave to twenty brokers -orders to sell 1,000 shares each at the best obtainable price and he -himself, through another man took an equal amount. On the next day he in -person sold 20,000 shares and on the third day the last 10,000 shares of -Greener’s order. This selling, the Street thought, was for his own -account. It was all short stock; that is, his colleagues thought he was -selling stock he didn’t own, trusting later on to buy it back cheaply. -Such selling never has the depressing effect of “long” stock because it -is obvious that the short seller must sooner or later buy the stock in, -insuring a future demand, which should exert a lifting influence on -prices; for - - “_He who sells what isn’t his’n - Must buy it back or go to pris’n._” - -And Dittenhoeffer was able to get an average of $86 per share for -Greener’s 50,000 shares of Federal Telegraph Company stock, for the -Street agreed, with many headshakings, that Dan was becoming too -reckless and Greener was a slippery little cuss and the short interest -must be simply enormous and the danger of a bad “squeeze” exceedingly -great. Wherefore, they forebore to “whack” Telegraph. Indeed, many -shrewd traders saw, in the seeming weakness of the stock, a trap of the -wily little Napoleon and they “fooled” him by astutely buying Federal -Telegraph! - -With the $4,300,000 which he received from the sale of the big block of -stock, Greener overcame his other troubles and carried out all his -plans. It was a daring stroke, to trust to a stock broker’s professional -honor. It made him the owner of a great railroad system. Dutch Dan’s -attacks later did absolutely no harm. Greener had made an opportunity -and Dittenhoeffer had lost one. - - - - - PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST - - -He was only seventeen, fair-haired and rosy-cheeked, with girlish blue -eyes, when he applied for the vacancy in the office of Tracy & -Middleton, Bankers and Brokers. His name was Willis N. Hayward, and he -was a proud boy, indeed, when he was selected out of twenty “applicants” -to be telephone-clerk for the firm. - -From 10 A.M. until 3 P.M. he stood by Tracy & Middleton’s private -telephone on the floor of the Stock Exchange—the Board Room—receiving -messages from the office—chiefly orders to buy or sell stocks for -customers—and transmitting the same messages to the “Board member” of -the firm, Mr. Middleton; also telephoning Mr. Middleton’s reports to the -office. He spoke with a soft, refined voice, and his blue eyes beamed so -ingenuously upon the other telephone-boys in the same row of booths, -that they said they had a Sally in their alley, and they immediately -nicknamed him Sally. - -It was all very wonderful to young Hayward, who had been out of -boarding-school but a few months—the excited rushing hither and thither -of worried-looking men, the frantic waving of hands, the maniacal -yelling of the brokers executing their orders about the various “posts,” -and their sudden relapse into semi-sanity as they jotted down the price -at which they had sold or bought stocks. It was not surprising that he -should fail to understand just how they did business; but what most -impressed him was the fact, vouched for by his colleagues, that these -same clamoring, gesticulating brokers were actually supposed to make a -great deal of money. He heard of “Sam” Sharpe’s $100,000 winnings in -Suburban Trolley, and of “Parson” Black’s famous million-dollar _coup_ -in Western Delaware—the little gray man even being pointed out to him in -corroboration. But, then, he had also heard of Aladdin and the Wonderful -Lamp, and Jack the Giant Killer. - -He learned the business, as nearly all boys must do in Wall Street, by -absorption. If he asked questions he received replies, but no one -volunteered any information for his guidance, and in self-defence he was -forced to observe closely, to see how others did, and to remark what -came of it. He heard nothing but _speculate! speculate!_ in one guise or -another, many words for the same meaning. It was all buying or selling -of stocks—a concentrated and almost visible hope of making much money in -the twinkling of an eye. Nobody talked of anything else on the Exchange. -Bosom friends met at the opening of business and did not say -“Good-morning,” but plunged without preamble into the only subject on -earth—speculation. And if one of them arrived late he inevitably -inquired forthwith, “How’s the market?”—asked it eagerly, anxiously, as -if fearful that the market had taken advantage of his absence to -misconduct itself. The air was almost unbreathable for the innumerable -“tips” to buy or sell securities and insecurities of all kinds. The -brokers, the customers, the clerks, the Exchange door-keepers, all Wall -Street read the morning papers, not to ascertain the news, but to pick -such items as would, should, or might, have some effect on stock values. -There was no god but the ticker, and the brokers were its prophets! - -All about Sally were hundreds of men who looked as if they took their -thoughts home with them and dined with them and slept with them and -dreamed of them—the look had become settled, immutable. And it was not a -pleasant look, about the eyes and lips. He saw everywhere the -feverishness of the “game.” Insensibly the atmosphere of the place -affected him, colored his thoughts, induced certain fancies. As he -became more familiar with the technique of the business he grew to -believe, like thousands of youthful or superficial observers, that -stock-market movements were comparable only to the gyrations of the -little ivory ball about the roulette-wheel. The innumerable tricks of -the trade, the uses of inside misinformation, the _rationale_ of -stock-market manipulation, were a sealed book to him. He heard only that -his eighteen-year-old neighbor made $60 buying twenty shares of Blue -Belt Line on Thursday and selling them on Saturday, 3⅜ points higher; or -that Micky Welch, Stuart & Stern’s telephone-boy, had a “tip” from one -of the big room traders which he bravely “played”—as you “play” horse or -“play” the red or the black—and cleared $125 in less than a week; or -that Watson, a “two-dollar” broker, made a “nice turn” selling Southern -Shore. Or else he heard, punctuated with poignant oaths, how Charlie -Miller, one of the New Street door-keepers, lost $230 buying -Pennsylvania Central, after he accidentally overheard Archie Chase, who -was “Sam” Sharpe’s principal broker, tell a friend that the “Old Man” -said “Pa. Cent.” was due for a ten-point rise; instead of which there -had been a seven-point decline. Always the boy heard about the -apparently irresponsible “bulges” and “drops,” of the winnings of the -men who happened to guess correctly, or of the losses of those who had -failed to “call the turn.” Even the vernacular of the place savored of -the technicalities of a gambling-house. - -As time wore on the glamour of the game wore off; likewise his scruples. -His employers and their customers—all gentlemanly, agreeable -people—speculated every day, and nobody found fault with them. It was -not a sin; it was a regular business. And so, whenever there was a “good -thing,” he “chipped in” one dollar to a telephone-boys’ “pool” that -later operated in a New Street bucket shop to the extent of ten shares. -His means were small, his salary being only $8 a week; and very often he -thought that if he only had a little more money he would speculate on a -larger scale and profit proportionately. If each time he had bought one -share he had held twenty instead, he figured that he would have made no -less than $400 in three months. - -The time is ripe for other things when a boy begins to reason that way. -Having no scruples against speculating, the problem with him became not, -“Is it wrong to speculate?” but rather, “What shall I do to raise money -for margin purposes?” It took nearly four months for him to arrive at -this stage of mind. With many boys the question is asked and -satisfactorily solved within three weeks. But Hayward was an -exceptionally nice chap. - -Now, the position of telephone-boy is really important in that it -requires not only a quick-witted but a trustworthy person to fill it. In -the first place, the boy knows whether his firm is buying or selling -certain stocks; he must exercise discrimination in the matter of -awarding the orders, should the Board member of the firm happen to be -unavailable when the boy receives the order. For example: International -Pipe may be selling at 108. A man in Tracy & Middleton’s office, who has -bought 500 shares of it at 104, wishes to “corral” his profits. He gives -an order to the firm to sell the stock, let us say, “at the market,” -that is, at the ruling market price. Tracy & Middleton immediately -telephone over their private line to the Stock Exchange to their Board -member to “sell 500 shares of International Pipe at the market.” The -telephone-boy receives the message and “puts up” Mr. Middleton’s number, -which means that on the multicolored, checkered strip on the frieze of -the New Street wall, Mr. Middleton’s number, 611, appears by means of an -electrical device. The moment Mr. Middleton sees that his number is -“up,” he hastens to the telephone-booth to ascertain what is wanted. -Now, if Mr. Middleton delays in answering his number the telephone-boy -knows he is absent, and gives the order to a “two-dollar” broker, like -Mr. Browning or Mr. Watson, who always hover about the booths looking -for orders. He does the same if he knows that Mr. Middleton is very busy -executing some other order, or if, in his judgment, the order calls for -immediate execution. The two-dollar broker sells the 500 shares of -International Pipe to Allen & Smith, and “gives up” Tracy & Middleton on -the transaction, that is, he notifies the purchaser that he is acting -for T. & M., and Allen & Smith must look to the latter firm—the real -sellers—for the stock bought. For this service the broker employed by -Tracy & Middleton receives the sum of $2 for each 100 shares, while -Tracy & Middleton, of course, charge their customers the regular -commission of one eighth of one per cent., or $12.50 per each hundred -shares. - -Young Hayward attended to his business closely, and when Mr. Middleton -was absent from the floor, or busy, he impartially distributed the -firm’s telephoned buying or selling orders among the two-dollar brokers, -for Tracy & Middleton did a very good commission business indeed. He was -a nice-looking and nice-acting little chap, was Hayward—clean-faced, -polite, and amiable. The brokers liked him, and they “remembered” him at -Christmas. The best memory was possessed by “Joe” Jacobs, who gave him -$25, and insinuated that he would like to do more of Tracy & Middleton’s -business than he had been getting. - -“But,” said Sally, “the firm said I was to give the order to whichever -broker I found first.” - -“Well,” said Jacobs, oleaginously, “I am never too busy to take orders -from such a nice young fellow as yourself, if you take the trouble to -find me; and I’ll do something nice for you. Look here,” in a whisper, -“if you give me plenty of business, I’ll give you $5 a week.” And he -dived into the mob that was yelling itself hoarse about the Gotham Gas -post. - -Hayward’s first impulse was to tell his firm about it, because he felt -vaguely that Jacobs would not have offered him $5 a week if he had not -expected something dishonorable in return. Before the market closed, -however, he spoke to Willie Simpson, MacDuff & Wilkinson’s boy, whose -telephone was next to Tracy & Middleton’s. Sure enough, Willie expressed -great indignation at Jacobs’s action. - -“It’s just like that old skunk,” said Willie. “Five dollars a week, when -he can make $100 out of the firm. Don’t you do it, Sally. Why, Jim Burr, -who had the place before you, used to get $20 a week from old man Grant -and $50 a month from Wolff. You’ve got a cinch, if you only know how to -work it. Why, they are supposed to give you fifty cents a hundred.” -Willie had been in the business for two years, and he was a very -well-dressed youth, indeed. Sally now understood how he managed it on a -salary of $12 a week. - -He did not say anything to the firm that day, nor any other day. And he -didn’t say anything to Jacobs in return, but, by Willie’s sage advice, -contented himself with merely withholding all orders from that -oleaginous personage, until Mr. Jacobs was moved to remonstrate. And -Sally, who had learned a great deal in a week under Willie’s tuition, -answered curtly: “Business is very bad; the firm is doing hardly -anything.” - -“But Watson told me,” said Jacobs, angrily, “that he was doing a great -deal of business for Tracy & Middleton. I want you to see that I get my -share, or I’ll speak to Middleton and find out what the trouble is.” - -“Is that so?” said Sally, calmly. “You might also tell Mr. Middleton -that you offered me $5 a week to give you the bulk of our business.” - -One of the most stringent laws of the Stock Exchange treats of -“splitting” commissions. Any member who, in order to increase his -business, charges an outsider or another member less than exactly the -prescribed amount for buying or selling stocks, is liable to severe -penalties. The offer of a two-dollar broker to give a telephone-boy -fifty cents for each order of 100 shares secured was obviously a -violation of the rule. - -Jacobs came down to business at once. “I’ll make it $8,” he said, -conciliatingly. - -“Jim Burr, who had the position before me,” expostulated Sally, -indignantly, “told me he received $25 a week from Mr. Grant, with an -extra $10 thrown in from time to time, when Mr. Grant made some lucky -turn, to say nothing of what the other men did for him.” - -Three months before he could not have made this speech had his life -depended on it. The rapid development of his character was due -exclusively to the “forcing” power of the atmosphere which surrounded -him. - -“You must be crazy,” said Jacobs, angrily. “Why, I never get much more -than a thousand shares a week from Tracy & Middleton, and usually less. -Say, you ought to be on the floor. You are wasting your talent in the -telephone business, you are. Let’s swap places, you and I.” - -“According to our books,” said Sally to the irate broker, having been -duly coached by Mr. William Simpson, “the last week you did business for -us you did 3,800 shares, and received $76.” - -“That was an exceptional week. I’ll make it $10,” said Jacobs. - -“Twenty-five,” whispered Sally, determinedly. - -“Let’s split the difference,” murmured Jacobs, wrathfully. “I’ll give -you $15 a week, but you must see that I get at least 2,500 shares a -week.” - -“All right. I’ll do the best I can for you, Mr. Jacobs.” - -And he did, for the other brokers gave him only twenty-five cents, or at -the most fifty cents per hundred shares. In the course of a month or two -Sally was in possession of an income of $40 a week. And he was only -eighteen. - - - II. - -Time-passed. As it had happened with his predecessor, so did it happen -now with Sally. He began by speculating, wildly at first, more carefully -later on. He met with sundry reverses, but he also made some very lucky -turns indeed, and he was “ahead of the game” by a very fair -amount—certainly a sum far greater than any plodding clerk could save in -five years, greater than many an industrious mechanic saves in his -entire life. From the bucket-shops he went to the Consolidated Exchange. -Then he asked Jacobs and the other two-dollar brokers to let him deal in -a small way with them, which they did out of personal liking for him, -until he had three separate accounts and could “swing a line” of several -hundred shares. He became neither more nor less than 10,000 other human -beings in Wall Street—moved by the same impulses, actuated by the same -feelings, experiencing the same emotions, having the same thoughts and -the same views of what they are pleased to call their “business.” - -At last the blow fell which Sally had so long dreaded—he was “promoted” -to a clerkship in Tracy & Middleton’s office. The firm meant to reward -him for his devotion to his work, for his brightness and quickness. From -$15 a week they raised his salary to $25, which they considered quite -generous, especially in view of his youth, and that he had started three -years before with $8. He was only twenty now. But Sally, knowing it -meant the abandonment of his lucrative perquisites as telephone “boy,” -bemoaned his undeserved fate. - -He took the money he had made to Mr. Tracy and told him an interesting -story of a rich aunt and a legacy, and asked him to let him open an -account in the office. Tracy congratulated his young clerk, took the -$6,500, and thereafter Sally was both an employee and a customer of -Tracy & Middleton. - -Addicted to sharp practices though Mr. Tracy was and loving commissions -as he did, he nevertheless sought to curb Sally’s youthful propensity -for “plunging,” which was as near being kind as it was possible for a -stock-broker to be. But the money had “come easy.” That is why fortunes -won by stock gamblers are lost with apparent recklessness or stupidity. -Sally speculated with varying success, running up his winnings to -$10,000, and seeing them dwindle later to $6,000. But in addition to -becoming an inveterate speculator, he gained much valuable experience. -And when he had learned the tricks of the trade he was taken from the -ledgers and turned loose in the customers’ room, to take the latter’s -orders and keep them in good humor and tell them the current stories, -and give them impressively whispered “tips,” and “put them into” various -“deals” of the firm, and see that they traded as often as possible, -which meant commissions for the firm. He became friendly and even -familiar with Tracy & Middleton’s clients, among whom were some very -wealthy men, for a stock-broker’s office is a democratic place. Men who -would not have dreamed of taking their Wall Street acquaintances to -their homes or to their clubs for a million reasons, all but called each -other by their first names there. - -He really was a bright, amiable fellow, very obliging—he was paid for it -by the firm—and he made the most of his opportunities. The customers -grew to like him exceedingly well, and to think with respect of his -judgment, market-wise. One day W. Basil Thornton, one of the wealthiest -and boldest customers of the firm, complained of the difficulty of -“beating the game” with the heavy handicap of the large brokerage -commission. - -Jestingly, yet hoping to be taken seriously, Sally said: “Join the New -York Stock Exchange or buy me a seat, and form the firm of Thornton & -Hayward. Just think, Colonel, we would have your trade, and you could -bring some friends, and I could bring mine, and I think many of -these”—pointing to Tracy & Middleton’s customers—“would come over to us. -They all think a lot,” diplomatically, “of your opinions on the market.” - -Thornton was favorably impressed with the idea, and Sally saw it. From -that moment on he worked hard to gain the Colonel’s confidence. It was -he who gave Thornton the first hint of Tracy & Middleton’s condition, -which led to the withdrawal of Thornton’s account—and his own—from the -office. It was a violation of confidence and of business ethics, but -Thornton was very grateful when, two months later, Tracy & Middleton -failed, under circumstances which were far from creditable, and which -were discussed at great length by the Street. He showed his gratitude by -adding a round sum to Sally’s $11,500, and Willis N. Hayward became a -member of the New York Stock Exchange. Shortly afterward the firm of -Thornton & Hayward, Bankers and Brokers, was formed. Sally, then in his -twenty-fifth year, had become a seasoned Wall Street man. - - - III. - -From the start the new firm did well. Colonel Thornton and two or three -friends who followed him from Tracy & Middleton’s office, all of them -“plungers,” were almost enough to keep Hayward busy on the Exchange -executing orders, and, moreover, new customers were coming in. Had he -been satisfied with this start, and with letting time do the rest, he -would have fared very well. But he began to speculate for himself, and -all reputable commission men will tell you, with varying degrees of -emphasis, that this not only “ties up” the firm’s money, but that no man -can “trade”—speculate—on his own hook and at the same time do justice to -his customers. - -Thornton was a rich man, and protected his own speculations more than -amply. He noticed the development of his young partner’s gambling -proclivities, and remonstrated with him—in a kindly, paternal sort of -way. - -Sally vowed he would stop. - -Within less than three months he had broken his promise twice, and his -unsuccessful operations in Alabama Coal at one time threatened seriously -to embarrass the firm. - -Colonel Thornton came to the rescue. - -Sally promised, with a solemnity born of sincere fear, never to do it -again. - -But fright lasts but a little space, and memory is equally short-lived. -Wall Street has no room for men with an excess of timidity or of -recollection. He had gambled before he joined the New York Stock -Exchange. After all, if speculating were a crime and convictions could -be secured in fifty out of a hundred flagrant instances, one half the -male population of the United States would perforce consist of -penitentiary guards forever engaged in watching over the convicted other -half, Sally told a customer one day. - -And then, too, Willis N. Hayward, the Board member of Thornton & -Hayward, was a very different person from Sally, the nice little -telephone-boy of Tracy & Middleton’s. His cheeks were not pink; they -were mottled. His eyes were not clear and ingenuous; they were shifty -and a bit watery. He had been in Wall Street eight or ten years, and he -overworked his nerves every day from 10 A.M. to 3 P.M. on the Stock -Exchange; also from 5 P.M. to midnight at the café of a big up-town -hotel, where Wall Street men gathered to talk shop. His system craved -stimulants; gambling and liquor were the strongest he knew. - -When, after three years, the firm expired by limitation, Colonel -Thornton withdrew. He had had enough of Hayward’s plunging. To be sure, -Sally had become a shrewd “trader,” and he had made $75,000 during the -big bull boom; but he was at heart a “trader,” which is to say, a mere -gambler in stocks, and not a desirable commission man. - -But Sally, flushed with success on the bull side, did not worry when -Thornton refused to continue the partnership. The slogan was “Buy A. O. -T. It’s sure to go up!” the initial standing for _Any Old Thing_! The -most prosperous period in the industrial and commercial history of the -United States begot an epidemic of speculative madness such as was never -before known, and probably never again will be. Everybody had money in -abundance, and the desire for speculation in superabundance. Sally -formed a new firm immediately—Hayward & Co.—with his cashier as partner. - - - IV. - -All mundane things have an end, even bull markets and bear markets. The -bull market saw Hayward & Co. doing a good business, as did everybody -else in Wall Street. It ended, and the firm’s customers, after a few bad -“slumps” in prices, were admonished to turn bears in order to recoup -their losses. Bears believe prices are too high and should go lower; -bulls, optimists, believe the opposite. The public can’t sell stocks -“short” any more than the average man is left-handed. These customers -were no exception, so they did nothing. - -Hayward had “overstayed” the bull market, though not disastrously; that -is, he was in error regarding the extent and duration of the upward -movement of prices. He proceeded to fall into a similar error on the -bear, or downward, side. The market had been extremely dull following -what the financial writers called a “severe decline,” but which meant -the loss of millions of dollars by speculators. A panic had been -narrowly averted by a timely combination of “powerful interests,” after -which the market became professional. In the absence of complaisant -lambs, the financial cannibals known as “room traders” and “pikers” -tried to “scalp eighths” out of each other for weeks—to take advantage -of fractional fluctuations instead of waiting for big movements. -Hayward’s customers, like everybody else’s customers, were not -speculating. So he used their money to protect his own speculations. -Office expenses were numerous and heavy, and commissions few and light. - -Hayward was very bearish. He had sold stocks, sharing the belief of the -majority of his fellows, that the lowest prices had not been reached. As -a result he was heavily “short,” and he could not “cover” at a profit, -because prices had advanced very slowly, but very steadily. - -One day a big gambler in Chicago, bolder or keener than his Eastern -brethren, thought the time was ripe for a “bull” or upward movement in -general, and particularly in Consolidated Steel Rod Company’s stock. He -was the chairman of the board of directors. Mr. William G. Dorr decided -upon a plan whereby the stock would be made attractive to that class of -speculative investors, so to speak, who liked to buy stocks making -generous disbursements of profits to their holders. Mr. Dorr’s plan was -kept a secret. The first step consisted of sending in large buying -orders, handled by prominent brokers, and synchronously the publication, -in the daily press, of various items, all reciting the wonderful -prosperity of the Consolidated Steel Rod Company and its phenomenal -earnings; also the unutterable cheapness of the stock at the prevailing -price. Mr. Dorr and associates, of course, had previously taken -advantage of the big “slump” or fall in values to buy back at 35 the -same stock they had sold to the public some weeks before at 70. Having -acquired this cheap stock, they “manipulated”—by means of further -purchase—the price so that they could sell out at a profit. - -It so happened, however, that once before dividend rumors about “Con. -Steel Rod” had been disseminated, with the connivance of Dorr, and they -had not come true, to the great detriment of credulous buyers and the -greater profit of the insiders, who were “short” of the stock “up to -their necks”—a typical bit of stock-jobbing whereat other and more -artistic stock-jobbers had expressed the greatest indignation. Instead -of putting the stock on a dividend-paying basis, the directors had -decided—at the last hour—that it would not be conservative to do so, -whereupon the stock had “broken” seventeen points. The lambs lost -hundreds of thousands of dollars; the insiders gained as much. It was a -“nice turn.” - -Hayward remembered this, and when the stock, after several days of -conspicuous activity and steady advances, rose to 52, he promptly sold -“short” 5,000 shares—believing that the barefaced manipulation would not -raise the stock much above that figure, and that before long it must -decline. Only a month previously it had sold at 35 and nobody wanted any -of it. He was all the more decided in his opinion that the “top” had -been reached by prices, because Mr. Dorr, in a Chicago paper, had stated -that the stockholders would probably receive an entire year’s dividend -at one fell swoop by reason of the unexampled prosperity in the steel -rod trade. Such an action was unprecedented. It had been talked about at -various times in connection with other stocks, but it had never come -true. Why should it come true in this instance? - -Hayward, familiar with Dorr’s record, promptly “coppered” his “tip” to -buy, banking on Dorr’s consistent mendacity. But Mr. William G. Dorr, -shrewdest and boldest of all Western stock gamblers, fooled everybody—he -actually told the truth. That week the directors did exactly as he had -predicted. When a speculator of his calibre lies he fools only one -half—the foolish half—of the Street. When he tells the truth he deceives -everybody. Before Wall Street could recover from the shock the price of -the stock was up 5 points, which meant that Hayward was out $25,000 on -that deal alone. But, in addition, the general list was carried upward -sympathetically. The semi-paralyzed bulls regained confidence as they -saw the successful outcome of the Chicago gambler’s manœuvres in -Consolidated Steel Rod. Money rates and bear hopes fell; stock values -and bull courage rose! Hayward began “covering” Steel Rod. He “bought -in” 5,000 shares, and after he finished he had lost $26,750 by the deal. -He was still “short” about 12,000 shares of other stocks, on which his -“paper” losses, at the last quoted prices, were over $35,000; but if he -tried to buy back such a large amount of stock in a market so sensitive -to any kind of bull impetus, he would send prices upward in a jiffy, -increasing his own losses very materially. - -He went to his office that morning in a tremor. He consulted the -cashier, and found he had only $52,000 at the bank, of which two thirds -belonged to his customers. He was already, morally speaking, an -embezzler. He was ruined if he didn’t cover, and he was ruined if he -did. His “seat” on the Stock Exchange was worth possibly $40,000, not a -cent more; and as he personally owed his out-of-town correspondents -nearly $38,000, he could not avoid being hopelessly ruined. Moreover, -his bankruptcy would not be an “honest” failure, for, as he told himself -bitterly, after the harm was done, “I had no business to speculate on my -own hook with other people’s money.” - -He had felt it rather than had seen it coming, for, gambler-like, he had -closed his eyes and had buried his head in the sand of hope, trusting in -luck to protect him from punishment. But now he was face to face with -the question that every gambler dreads: “If I stood to lose all, how -desperate a risk would I take in order to get it back?” The answer is -usually so appallingly thief-like that the numerous Haywards of the -Stock Exchange and the Board of Trade forthwith stop thinking with a -suddenness that does credit to the remnants of their honesty. But it -haunts them, does the ominous question and the commenced but unfinished -answer. - -As he left his office to go to the “Board Room” he put to himself the -fateful query. But he would not let himself answer it until he had -stopped at “Fred’s,” the official barroom of the Stock Exchange, and had -taken a stiff drink of raw whiskey. Then the answer came. - -He was ruined anyhow. If he failed without further ado, that is, without -increasing his liabilities, he would be cursed by twenty-five of his -customers and by fifteen of his fellow-brokers who were “lending” stocks -to him. But if he made one last desperate effort, he might pull out of -the hole; or, at the worst, why, the number of cursing customers would -remain the same, but the fellow-brokers would rise to twenty or thirty. - -He took another stiff drink. The market had become undoubtedly a bull -market. The bears had been fighting the advance, and there still -remained a stubborn short interest in certain stocks, as, for example, -in American Sugar Company stock. Now if that short interest could be -stampeded it might mean an eight or ten-point advance. If he bought -10,000 or 15,000 shares and sold them at an average profit of four or -five points, he would put off the disaster, and if he made ten points he -would be a great operator. He had, to be sure, no business to buy even -1,000 shares of Sugar; but then he had no business to be on the verge of -bankruptcy. - -The liquor was potent. Sally said to himself, aggrievedly: “I might as -well be hung for a flock as for one measly old mutton.” - -He walked a trifle unsteadily from “Fred’s” across the narrow asphalted -New Street to the Stock Exchange. He paused at the entrance. There was -no escape. Unless he could make a lucky strike, he would fail -ignominiously. - -“Pike’s Peak or bust!” he muttered to himself, and walked into the big -room. - -“Good-morning, Mr. Hayward,” said the doorkeeper. Hayward nodded -absently, caught himself repeating, “Pike’s Peak or bust!” and walked -straight toward the Sugar post. - -He began to bid for stock. One thousand shares at 116; he got it. -Another thousand; it was forthcoming at 116⅛. A third thousand; somebody -was glad to sell it at 116½. So far, so bad. Then he bid 117 for 2,500 -shares, and it was promptly sold. But when he bid “117 for any part of -5,000!” the crowd hesitated; the brokers were not altogether sure -Hayward was “good for it”; his ability to pay for the stock was not -undoubted. So Sally, taking advantage of the hesitation, bid 117¼ and -117½ for 5,000 Sugar, at which price “Billy” Thatcher, a two-dollar -broker, sold it to him. It made 10,500 shares Hayward had bought, and -the stock had risen only 1½ points. The shorts were not frightened a wee -bit. But Sally was. He rushed out of the crowd to his telephone and made -a pretence of “reporting” the transactions to his office, as he would -have done had they been _bona fide_ purchases. He was followed by a -hundred sharply curious—and curiously sharp—eyes. They saw him hold the -telephone receiver to his ear with an expression of great interest, as -if he were listening to an important message. But the only message he -heard was that of his heart-beats, that seemed to say, almost -articulately: “You have played and you have lost; you have played and -you have lost. Therefore, you are that much worse off than before. You -must play again—_and not lose_!” - -He left his telephone and rushed back to the Sugar crowd. He was less -excited, less like a drunken man; his face was no longer flushed, but -pale. And anon there flashed upon him, as if in candent letters, the -words _Pike’s Peak or bust_! But _Pike’s Peak_ glowed dully, feebly, -while the alternative was of a lurid splendor. And he blinked his eyes -and made a curious impatient motion with his hand, as one waves away an -annoying insect. - -He gave an order for 5,000 Sugar to his friend, Newton Hartley. - -“Is this for yourself, Sally?” asked Hartley. - -“No. It’s for one of the biggest men in the Street, Newt. It’s all -right. Absolutely O. K.” - -And thus reassured, Hartley bought the stock. The price was 118. The -seller would hold Hartley responsible for the purchase money if Hayward -“laid down”—refused to pay. - -Sally wiped his forehead twice, quite unnecessarily. The shorts were not -stampeding. Any attempt to sell out the 15,000 shares he had bought -would result only in depressing the price, five points at least. It was -worse than bad, the outlook for him. - -He gave another order to buy 5,000 shares to “Billy” Lansing, an old and -reliable two-dollar broker, but Lansing declined it. He tried another, -but the order was not accepted. They mistrusted him; but he could not -even bluster, for they excused themselves on the ground of having -important orders elsewhere. So he had recourse to another personal -friend—J. G. Thompson. - -“Joe, buy 5,000 Sugar.” - -“Are you sober?” said Thompson, seriously. - -“See for yourself,” answered Sally, laughingly. He had nerve. “Old man, -I’ve got a very big order from one of the biggest men in the Street. -Some important developments are going on.” - -“Sally, are you sure you’ve got an order from some one else?” asked the -unconvinced broker. His incredulity was obviously in the nature of an -insult, but it was pardonable, for there was too much at stake. - -“Joe, come over to the office and I’ll show you.—Really, I can’t tell -you. But I can advise you, as a friend, to buy Sugar for all you are -worth.” And as he uttered the lie he looked straight into Thompson’s -eyes. - -“Hayward, are you sure? Are you sure you’re not making a mistake?” He -wanted the commission of $100, but he did not feel certain of his -friend. - -“Oh, hell, no. I’ve got a lot more to buy. It’s all right. Go ahead, -Joe.” - -And Joe went ahead. He bought the 5,000 shares. The stock rose to 119½, -and Hayward, warned by his experience with Hartley and Thompson, did not -ask either friend or foe to buy another 5,000 shares for him. What he -did was to distribute buying orders for 10,000 shares in lots of 500. -Brokers now accepted his orders, for they were not so large as to be -dangerous. And the stock rose to 122¾. A few shorts were frightened. He -might win out after all; he might make Pike’s Peak. He began to bid up -the stock. He even bought “cash” stock, that is, stock for which he paid -cash, had to pay cash outright, receiving the certificates forthwith, -presumably to hand over to some investor of millions. Everybody on the -“floor” was talking about Hayward. The entire market had risen in -sympathy with Sugar. - -But at 124 it seemed as if the entire capital stock was for sale. He -ceased buying. He had accumulated 38,000 shares. To pay for the stock -necessitated about six and one-half millions! But if he could unload on -an average of only 122 he might “come out even” in his other troubles. - -He gave an order to sell 10,000 shares to a broker to whom he had always -been a good friend. It was a fatal mistake. The broker, Louis W. -Wechsler, had previously sold 1,000 shares to Hayward for “cash” at 122. -He suspected what was coming, and declining the order, he himself went -to Hayward’s office and asked for a check. The cashier sought to put him -off with excuses, and Wechsler now being certain of the true state of -affairs, returned to the Board and began to sell Sugar short for his own -account. If a crash came he would make instead of losing it. Hayward was -sure to be ruined, and Wechsler told himself sophistically that he was -only profiting by the inevitable. In the meantime Sally had sold the -10,000 shares through another broker, and the price had declined to -121¾. But Wechsler’s 5,000 shares put it down to 120½. And somebody else -sold more, and the shorts recovered from their fright, and the fatal -hour was approaching when Hayward would have to settle. Pike’s Peak or -bust! He did, indeed, need a veritable Pike’s Peak of dollars to pay for -the 28,000 Sugar he had on hand. So he busted. - -He threw up his hands. He acknowledged defeat to himself. The tension -was over. He was no longer excited, but cool, almost cynical. On one of -the little slips of paper on which brokers jot down memoranda of their -transactions he scribbled a message in lead pencil. It was his last -official lie, and would cost Hartley and Thompson and other friends, as -well as his customers, many thousands of dollars. It was as follows: - -“Owing to the refusal of their bank to extend the usual facilities to -them, Hayward & Co. are compelled to announce their suspension.” - -“Boy!” he yelled. And he gave the bit of paper to one of the Exchange -messenger boys in gray. “Take this to the Chairman.” - -And he walked slowly, almost swaggeringly, out of the New York Stock -Exchange—for the last time—as the Chairman pounded with his gavel until -the usual crowd gathered about the rostrum, and listened to the -announcement of the failure of “Sally” Hayward, who began as a nice -little telephone-boy and ended as a stock-gambler. - - - - - A THEOLOGICAL TIPSTER - - -At first Wall Street thought that Silas Shaw’s “religiousness” was an -affectation. What purpose the Old Man desired to serve by the calculated -notoriety of his church affiliations no one could tell. It is true that -many ingenious theories were advanced, some going so far as to hint at -repentance. But deep in the hearts of his fellow-brokers, and of his -friends and his victims alike, was the belief that old Shaw, in some not -generally known way, made practical use of his ostentatious enthusiasm -for things churchly as politicians resort to more or less obvious -devices to “capture the German vote” or to “please the Irish element.” - -One day, after a series of skirmishes and a final pitched battle in -“South Shore” between the Old Man and the bears, when the pelts of the -latter, after the capitulation, added nearly a half million to the old -fellow’s bank account, certain luminaries of the Methodist Episcopal -Church were called into consultation. Silas Shaw had long thought about -it; and now there was much conferring and more or less arid and -misplaced sermonizing by the theologians and much soothing talk by the -Old Man’s lawyers; and more Methodist clergymen and more lawyers and -more talk; and then a real estate agent and an architect and a leading -banker and, at last, just one check from the Old Man. - -The next day the newspapers announced that the Shaw Theological Seminary -had been founded and endowed by Mr. Silas Shaw. But even after the Old -Man had devoted his ursine spoils to this praiseworthy object, Wall -Street continued skeptical. - -And, yet, Wall Street made a mistake—as it often does in its judgment of -its leaders. Silas Shaw really had a soft spot in his tape-wound and -ticker-dented old heart for all things ecclesiastical. Next to being a -power in the Street he loved to be regarded as one of the pillars of his -church. He heard with pleasure, of week days, the wakeful _staccato_ -sound of the ticker; but on Sundays he certainly enjoyed the soothing -cadences of familiar hymns. And if more than one hardened broker -expressed picturesque but unreproducible opinions of the old man, so -also more than one enthusiastic young minister could tell pleasant -stories of how the old stock gambler received him and responded to the -fervent appeal for the funds wherewith many a little backwoods church -was built. - -Shaw’s generosity was so notorious among the church people that the -Reverend Doctor Ramsdell, pastor of the Steenth Street Methodist -Episcopal Church and a trustee of the Shaw Theological Seminary, felt no -embarrassment in applying to him for assistance. It was not Shaw’s -church, but in Dr. Ramsdell’s charge there were one or two bankers well -known in Wall Street and several members of the New York Stock Exchange. -It seemed particularly fitting to the Rev. Dr. Ramsdell that the name of -Silas Shaw, followed by a few figures, should head a subscription list. -It was desired to erect a Protestant Chapel in Oruro, Bolivia—the most -uncivilized of all the South American “republics.” - -“Good-morning, Brother Shaw; I trust you are well.” - -“Tolerable, tolerable, thank’ee kindly,” replied the sturdy old gambler. -“What brings you down to this sinful section? Doing some missionary -work, eh? I wish you’d begin among those da—er—dandy young bears.” - -“Ah, yes,” said the Rev. Dr. Ramsdell, eagerly. “It is precisely _à -propos_ of missionary work.” And he told Silas Shaw all about the plan -for carrying the light into Bolivia by building the only Protestant -chapel in Oruro, where it was incredibly tenebrous—worse than darkest -Africa. The reverend doctor hoped, nay, he knew, in view of Brother -Shaw’s well-known devotion to the glorious work of redeeming their -benighted Bolivian brethren, that he could count upon him, etc.; and the -subscription list—— - -“My dear Dr. Ramsdell,” interrupted Shaw, “I never sign subscription -lists. When I give, I give; and I don’t want everybody to know how much -I’ve given.” - -“Well, Brother Shaw, you need not sign your name. I’ll put you down as -X. Y. Z.,” he smiled encouragingly. - -“No, no; don’t put me down at all.” - -The good doctor looked so surprised and so woebegone that Shaw laughed. - -“Cheer up, Doctor. I tell you what I’ll do; I’ll buy some Erie for you. -Yes, sirree; that’s the best thing I can do. What do you say to that?” -And he looked at the doctor, triumphantly. - -“Ahem!—I am not—are you sure it will prove a—ahem!—a desirable -investment? You see, I do not—ah—know much about Wall Street.” - -“Neither do I. And the older I grow the less I know.” - -The reverend doctor ventured a tentative smile of semi-incredulity. - -“That’s right, Doctor. But we’ll make something for you. The blooming, I -mean, benighted Bohemians——” - -“Ahem!—Bolivians, Brother Shaw.” - -“I meant Bolivians. They must have a chance for their souls. John,” to a -clerk; “buy 500 shares of Erie at the market.” - -“Yes, sir,” said John, disappearing into the telephone booth. To buy, -“at the market” meant to buy at the prevailing or market price. - -“Brother Shaw, I am extremely grateful to you. This matter is very close -to my heart, I assure you. And—ah—will—when will I know if -the—ah—investment turns out profitably?” - -“Oh, have no fears on that score. We shall make the stock market -contribute to your missionary fund. All you’ll have to do is to look on -the financial page of your paper every evening and keep posted.” - -“I fear, Brother Shaw,” said Dr. Ramsdell, deprecatingly, “that I shall -have no little trouble in—ah—keeping posted.” - -“Not at all. See, here,” and he took up his paper and turned to the -stock tables. “Draw up your chair, Doctor. You see, here is Erie. -Yesterday, on transactions of 18,230 shares, Erie Railroad stock sold as -high as 64¾ and as low as 63¼, the last or closing sale being at 64½. -The numbers mean dollars per share. It was very strong. Haven’t you got -a report on that 500 Erie yet, John?” - -“Yes, sir,” said John. “Sixty-five and one-eighth.” - -“You see, Doctor, the stock is still going up. Well, every day when you -look on the table you will see at what price Erie stock is selling. If -it is more than 65⅛, why, that will show you are making money. Every -point up, that is, every unit, will mean that your missionary fund is -$500 richer.” - -“And—Brother Shaw—ahem!—if it should be—ah—less?” - -“What’s the use of thinking such things, Dr. Ramsdell? All you have to -remember is that I am going to make some money for you; and that I paid -65⅛ for the stock I bought.” - -“You really think——” - -“Have no fears, Doctor. You understand, of course, that it is well not -to give such matters undue publicity.” - -“Of course, of course,” assented the doctor. “I understand.” But he did -not. - -“Nothing more, Doctor?” - -“No; I thank you very much, Brother Shaw. I—er—most sincerely hope -my—ah—your—I should say—ah—our investment, may result in—ah—favorably -for our Bolivian Missionary Fund. Thanks very much.” - -“Don’t mention it, Doctor. And don’t you worry. We will come out O.K. -You’ll hear from me in a week or two. Good-morning.” - -The reverend doctor went across the Street to the office of one of his -parishioners, Walter H. Cranston, a stock broker. - -Mr. Cranston was bemoaning the appalling lack of business and making up -his mind about certain Delphic advice he contemplated giving his timid -customers, in order to make them “trade,” which would mean commissions, -when Dr. Ramsdell’s card was brought. - -“Confound him, what does he want to come around, bothering a man at his -business for?” he thought. But he said: “Show him in, William.” - -“Good-morning, Brother Cranston.” - -“Why, good-morning, Dr. Ramsdell. To what do I owe this unexpected -pleasure?” - -“I’ve called to see you about our Missionary Fund. You know I take a -great deal of interest in it. We desire to build a chapel in Bolivia, -where the light is needed, Brother Cranston, as much as in China, I -assure you. And it is so much nearer home.” - -“Doctor, I really—” began Cranston, with an injured air. - -“I want your valuable autograph to head the subscription list,” said the -clergyman with an air he endeavored to make arch and playful. “Don’t -refuse me.” - -“Why don’t you try some well-known person?” said Cranston, modestly. - -“To tell you the truth, Brother Cranston, I did try Silas Shaw.” And he -added, hastily, “Not but that you are sufficiently well-known for my -purpose.” - -“What did the old ras—the Old Man say?” - -“He said he never signed subscription lists.” - -“Didn’t he give you anything at all?” - -“Oh, yes; he—er—he did something for me.” The doctor’s face assumed a -portentous air. - -Cranston’s eyes brightened. “What was that?” he said. - -“Well,” said the clergyman, hesitatingly, “he said we would come out -O.K. Those are his own words, Brother Cranston.” - -“Yes?” Cranston’s face did not look promising for Bolivian -enlightenment. - -“Yes. He—er—told me he would make the stock market contribute to the -fund.” - -“Indeed!” Cranston showed a lively interest. - -“Yes. I suppose since you are in the same business, there is no harm in -telling you that he bought some stock for me. Five hundred shares, it -was. Do you think, Brother Cranston, that that—er—that will mean much? -You see, I have the fund very close to my heart; that is why I ask.” - -“It depends,” said Cranston, very carelessly, “upon what stock he bought -for you.” - -“It was Erie Railroad stock.” - -“Of course, Dr. Ramsdell, your profits will depend upon the price you -paid.” This also in a tone of utter indifference. - -“It was Brother Shaw who paid. The price was 65⅛.” - -“Aha!” said Cranston. “So the Old Man is bullish on Erie, is he?” - -“I do not know what you mean, but I know he told me I should read the -paper every day and see how much above 65⅛ the price went; and that I -would surely hear from him.” - -“I sincerely hope you will, Doctor. Let me see, will $100 do? Very well, -I’ll make out a check for you. Here it is. And now, Doctor, will you -excuse me? We are very busy, indeed. Good-morning, Dr. Ramsdell. Call -again any time you happen to be down this way.” And he almost pushed the -good man out of the office in his eagerness to be rid of him. - -No sooner had the ground-glass door closed on the Rev. Dr. Ramsdell than -Cranston rushed to the telephone and put in an order to buy 1,000 shares -of Erie at the best possible price. By doing this before he notified his -friends he proved that he himself firmly believed in Erie; also, he -bought his stock ahead of theirs and thereby, in all likelihood, bought -it cheaper. He then rushed into the customers’ room and yelled: “Hi, -there! Everybody get aboard Erie! Silas Shaw is bullish as Old Nick on -it. I get this absolutely straight. I’ve thought all along the old -rascal was quietly picking it up. It’s his movement and no mistake. -There ought to be ten points in it if you buy now.” - -The firm of Cranston & Melville bought in all, that day, for themselves -and their customers, 6,200 shares of Erie, doing as much as anyone else -to advance the price to 66½. - -All that week the reverend doctor was busy collecting subscriptions for -the Bolivian Missionary Fund. He was a good soul and an enthusiast on -the subject of that particular subscription list. - -So, he told his parishioners how Brother Cranston had given $100 and -Brother Baker, another Wall Street man, $250, and Brother Shaw had -promised—he told this with an amused smile, as if at the incongruity of -it—to make the stock market contribute to the fund! Brother Shaw had -done this by buying some stock for him and had assured him, in his -picturesque way, that it would come out O.K. in a week or two. Everybody -to whom he told that fact developed curiosity regarding the name of the -stock itself. They showed it in divers ways, according to their various -temperaments. And as he had told some he felt that he should not -discriminate against others; so, he told to all, impartially, the name -of the stock. It would not harm Brother Shaw, he supposed—and he -supposed rightly. He experienced, in a gentle, benevolent, -half-unconscious sort of way, something akin to the great Wall Street -delight—that of “giving a straight tip” to appreciative friends. The -Bolivian Missionary Fund grew even beyond the good man’s optimistic -expectations. - -But a strange, a very strange thing happened: Erie stock, according to -the doctor’s daily perusal of the dry financial pages, had been -fluctuating between 65 and 67. On the following Tuesday, to his intense -surprise, the stock table recorded: “Highest, 65¾; lowest, 62; last, -62⅝.” On Wednesday the table read: “Highest, 62½; lowest, 58; last 58.” -On Thursday, there was a ray of hope—the stock sold as high as 60 and -closed at 59½. But on Friday there was a bad break and Erie touched 54⅛, -just 11⅛ points below what the Bolivian Missionary Fund’s stock had -cost. And, on Saturday, the stock declined to 50, closing at 51¼. - -That Sunday the Reverend Doctor Henry W. Ramsdell preached to the -gloomiest congregation in Gotham. Wherever he turned his gaze he met -reproachful looks—accusing eyes, full of bitterness or of anger or of -sadness. An exception was Mr. Silas Shaw, who had come, as he often did, -to hear his friend, Dr. Ramsdell, preach. His eyes beamed benignantly on -the pastor throughout the long sermon. He looked as if he felt, Dr. -Ramsdell thought, inexplicably contented. Had he forgotten his -promise—the promise from which benighted Bolivia expected so much? - -The two men met after the service. Dr. Ramsdell’s manner was -constrained; Mr. Shaw’s affable. - -“Good-morning, Doctor,” said the grizzled old operator. “I’ve carried a -small piece of paper in my pocket for some days, in the hope of meeting -you. Here it is.” And he handed a check for $5,000 to the clergyman. - -“Why—er—I—er—I—didn’t—the stock—er—go down?” - -“Sure!” - -“How is it then that——” - -“Oh, that’s all right. It came out just as I expected. That’s why you -get the check.” - -“But—ahem!—didn’t you buy 500 shares for me?” - -“Yes; but after you left I sold 10,000 shares between 65 and 67. Your -congregation, Doctor, developed a remarkable bullishness on Erie.” He -chuckled gleefully. “It was to them that I sold the stock!” - -“But my—ahem!—impression was that you said the stock would go up.” - -“Oh, no. I never said that. I merely told you we’d come out O.K. And I -guess we have.” He laughed joyously. “It’s all right, Doctor; those -pesky Bolivians will be enlightened, you bet.” - -“But,” said the doctor, with a very red face, fingering the check, -hesitatingly, “I don’t know whether to accept it or not.” - -“Oh, you’re not robbing me,” the old stock gambler assured him, gaily. -“I made out quite well; quite well, thank you.” - -“I—I—mean—” stammered the clergyman, “I don’t know whether it is right -to——” - -Shaw frowned. “Put that check in your pocket,” he said, sharply. “You -earned it.” - - - THE END - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - RECENT - PUBLICATIONS - _of_ - McClure, Phillips & Co. - ❦ - - - _New York_ - 1901–1902 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _Anthony Hope’s New Novel_ - - TRISTRAM OF BLENT - -It is always a question what Anthony Hope will do next. From a dashing -romance of an imaginary kingdom to drawing-room repartee is a leap which -this versatile writer performs with the greatest ease. In his “Tristram -of Blent” he has made a new departure, demonstrating his ability to -depict character by some exceedingly delicate and skillful delineation. -The plot is unique, and is based upon the difference of time of the -Russian and English calendars, by which a marriage, a birth, and the -ownership of lands and name are in turn affected, producing -complications which hurry the reader on in search of the satisfactory -solution which awaits him. The Tristrams are characters of strong -individualities, of eccentricities likewise. These, coloring all their -acts, leave the reader in doubt as to the issue; yet it is a logical -story through and through, events following events in carefully planned -sequence. A work of undoubted originality based on modern conditions, -“Tristram of Blent” proves that the author does not need an ideal -kingdom to write a thrilling romance. (12mo, $1.50.) - - - IRISH PASTORALS - - _By Shan F. Bullock_ - -“Irish Pastorals” is a collection of character sketches of the soil—of -the Irish soil—by one who has lived long and closely among the laboring, -farming peasantry of Ireland. It is not, however, a dreary recital of -long days of toil with scanty food and no recreation, but it depicts -within a life more strenuous than one can easily realize, abundant -elements of keen native wit and irrepressible good nature. The book will -give many American readers a new conception of Irish pastoral life, and -a fuller appreciation of the conditions which go to form the strength -and gentleness of the Irish character. (12mo, $1.50.) - - - THE WESTERNERS - - _By Stewart Edward White_ - -When the Black Hills were discovered to be rich in valuable ores, there -began that heterogeneous influx of human beings which always follows -new-found wealth. In this land and in this period, Stewart Edward White -has laid the setting of “The Westerners,” a story which is full of -excitement, beauty, pathos and humor. A young girl, growing to womanhood -in a rough mining camp, is one of the central figures of the plot. The -other is a half-breed, a capricious yet cool, resourceful rascal, ever -occupied in schemes of revenge. Around these two are grouped the -interesting characters which gave color to that rude life, and, back of -them all, rough nature in her pristine beauty. The plot is strong, -logical, and well sustained; the characters are keenly drawn; the -details cleverly written. Taken all in all, “The Westerners” is a -thoroughly good story of the far West in its most picturesque decade. -(12mo, $1.50.) - - - BY BREAD ALONE - - _By I. K. Friedman_ - -Mr. Friedman has chosen a great theme for his new novel, one which -affords a wealth of color and a wide field for bold delineation. It is a -story of the steel-workers which introduces the reader to various and -little-known aspects of those toiling lives. In the course of the work -occurs a vivid description of a great strike. The author, however, shows -no tinge of prejudice, but depicts a bitter labor struggle with -admirable impartiality. Along with the portrayal of some of man’s worst -passions is that of his best, his affection for woman, forming a -love-story which softens the stern picture. The book will appeal to -students of industrial tendencies, as well as to every lover of good -fiction. (12mo, $1.50.) - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -_Here are two volumes of most thrilling tales, gleaned from the material -which the age has brought us. Each collection occupies an original field -and depicts some characteristic phase of our great commercial life._ - - - WALL STREET STORIES - - _By Edwin Lefèvre_ - -It would be difficult to find a better setting for a good story than -this hotbed of speculation. On the Exchange, every day is a day of -excitement, replete with dangerous risks, narrow escapes, victories, -defeats. There are rascals, “Napoleonic” rascals, and the “lambs” who -are shorn; there is the old fight between right and wrong, and sometimes -the right wins, and sometimes—as the world goes—the wrong. In the -maddening whirl of this life, which he knows so well, Edwin Lefèvre has -laid the setting of his Wall Street stories. A number of them have -already appeared in _McClure’s Magazine_, and their well-merited success -is the cause of publication in book form of this absorbing collection. -(12mo, $1.25.) - - - HELD FOR ORDERS - - STORIES OF RAILROAD LIFE - - _By Frank H. Spearman_ - -While railroad life affords fewer elements of passion and emotion than -the life of Wall Street, it offers however a far greater field for the -depiction of the heroic. Deeds of bravery are probably more common among -these hardy, cool, resourceful men—the railroad employees—than among any -other members of society. “Held For Orders” describes thrilling -incidents in the management of a mountain division in the far West. The -stories are all independent, but have characters in common, many of whom -have been met with in _McClure’s Magazine_. Mr. Spearman combines the -qualities of a practical railroad man with those of a fascinating -storyteller, and his tales, both in subject and manner of telling, are -something new in literature. (12mo, $1.50.) - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 3. 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