The Metropolis Part 22

"Why, I could get all of it; but part of the money is mother's, and I would not touch that."

The younger man was about to remonstrate, but Montague stopped him, "I will put up the fifty thousand I have earned," he said. "I dare not risk any more."

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "As you please," he said. "You may never have another such chance in your life."

He dropped the subject, or at least he probably tried to. Within a few minutes, however, he was back at it again, with the result that by the time they reached the banking-district, Montague had agreed to draw sixty thousand.

They stopped at his bank. "It isn't open yet,--" said Oliver, "but the paying teller will oblige you. Tell him you want it before the Exchange opens."

Montague went in and got his money, in six new, crisp, ten-thousand-dollar bills. He b.u.t.toned them up in his inmost pocket, wondering a little, incidentally, at the magnificence of the place, and at the swift routine manner in which the clerk took in and paid out such sums as this. Then they drove to Oliver's bank, and he drew a hundred and twenty thousand; and then he paid off the cab, and they strolled down Broadway into Wall Street. It lacked a quarter of an hour of the time of the opening of the Exchange; and a stream of prosperous-looking men were pouring in from all the cars and ferries to their offices.

"Where are your brokers?" Montague inquired.

"I don't have any brokers--at least not for a matter such as this,"

said Oliver. And he stopped in front of one of the big buildings. "In there," he said, "are the offices of Hammond and Streeter--second floor to your left. Go there and ask for a member of the firm, and introduce yourself under an a.s.sumed name--"

"What!" gasped Montague.

"Of course, man--you would not dream of giving your own name! What difference will that make?"

"I never thought of doing such a thing," said the other.

"Well, think of it now."

But Montague shook his head. "I would not do that," he said.

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "All right," he said; "tell him you don't care to give your name. They're a little shady--they'll take your money."

"Suppose they won't?" asked the other.

"Then wait outside for me, and I'll take you somewhere else."

"What shall I buy?"

"Ten thousand shares of Transcontinental Common at the opening price; and tell them to buy on the scale up, and to raise the stop; also to take your orders to sell over the 'phone. Then wait there until I come for you."

Montague set his teeth together and obeyed orders. Inside the door marked Hammond and Streeter a pleasant-faced young man advanced to meet him, and led him to a grey-haired and affable gentleman, Mr. Streeter.

And Montague introduced himself as a stranger in town, from the South, and wis.h.i.+ng to buy some stock. Mr. Streeter led him into an inner office and seated himself at a desk and drew some papers in front of him. "Your name, please?" he asked.

"I don't care to give my name," replied the other. And Mr. Streeter put down his pen.

"Not give your name?" he said.

"No," said Montague quietly.

"Why?"--said Mr. Streeter--"I don't understand--"

"I am a stranger in town," said Montague, "and not accustomed to dealing in stocks. I should prefer to remain unknown."

The man eyed him sharply. "Where do you come from?" he asked.

"From Mississippi," was the reply.

"And have you a residence in New York?"

"At a hotel," said Montague.

"You have to give some name," said the other.

"Any will do," said Montague. "John Smith, if you like."

"We never do anything like this," said the broker.

"We require that our customers be introduced. There are rules of the Exchange--there are rules--"

"I am sorry," said Montague; "this would be a cash transaction."

"How many shares do you want to buy?"

"Ten thousand," was the reply.

Mr. Streeter became more serious. "That is a large order," he said.

Montague said nothing.

"What do you wish to buy?" was the next question.

"Transcontinental Common," he replied.

"Well," said the other, after another pause-,-"we will try to accommodate you. But you will have to consider it--er--"

"Strictly confidential," said Montague.

So Mr. Streeter made out the papers, and Montague, looking them over, discovered that they called for one hundred thousand dollars.

"That is a mistake," he said. "I have only sixty thousand."

"Oh," said the other, "we shall certainly have to charge you a ten per cent, margin."

Montague was not prepared for this contingency; but he did some mental arithmetic. "What is the present price of the stock?" he asked.

"Fifty-nine and five-eighths," was the reply.

"Then sixty thousand dollars is more than ten per cent, of the market price," said Montague.

"Yes," said Mr. Streeter. "But in dealing with a stranger we shall certainly have to put a 'stop loss' order at four points above, and that would leave you only two points of safety--surely not enough."

"I see," said Montague--and he had a sudden appalling realization of the wild game which his brother had planned for him.