I
Immediately upon the closing of the Stock Exchange at noon on Saturday, Theodore Dodge came to Joe Kaplan’s office. Dodge was a stockbroker, who enjoyed the prestige of being known as the financial advisor, and representative on ’change of Cooper Gillett, present head of the famous old New York family. Joe was expecting a communication from that quarter. The Gillett millions had always been invested in New York real estate, but Cooper Gillett was interesting himself more and more in Wall street. Only a few people knew that it was Joe Kaplan who had introduced him to the excitements of that game.
Dodge plumped himself down, and without preamble said gloomily: “It closed two points higher.”
Joe nodded, good-humoredly. All the strings of this affair were safely in his hands, and he had only to jerk a finger here and there, to make things come about as he wished.
“Of course the stock began to show strength as soon as I stopped selling,” Dodge went on: “Everybody was watching me. I sent three messages to Cooper Gillett from the floor, and got no answer. Finally I left the floor, and went to his office. Keep and Shriver were with him. He was biting his nails in a blue funk. When I asked for additional orders to sell, he flew into a passion. ‘I’m already short forty thousand shares of the damned stock!’ he cried. ‘Suppose she jumps five points more? I should be seriously embarrassed!’
“We all laughed a little at this,” Dodge went on. “ ‘Seriously embarrassed’ sounded comic, coming from him. ‘How about the rest of us?’ said I. ‘We have all put every cent we possessed into this.’
“ ‘The more fools, you!’ he said.
“ ‘We followed you in,’ I reminded him.
“ ‘Yah! and now you look to me to get you out again!’ he snarled. ‘I must throw away a million maybe, to save your paltry thousands!’
“I gave it to him straight, then. ‘Look here,’ said I, ‘that’s not the point. Never mind what we stand to lose. I’m your broker, and I’m supposed to give you honest advice. Well, here it is! Everybody knows you can’t go into a deal like this, and stop half way. You might just as well stand on the corner, and pitch your money down a sewer opening. As soon as I stopped selling for you, the stock began to rise. When it becomes generally known that you have released the pressure on it, it will rebound like a rubber ball. It won’t be a question of five points rise then, but ten, and very likely twenty. You’ll lose half a million dollars, and become a laughing-stock. I’ll be ruined. . . .’
“ ‘On the other hand,’ I said, ‘if you see the thing through, you can’t lose! This is simply a duel between you and the Mattisons of Chicago. Well, you’ve got more money and more credit than that crowd. As yet, you haven’t begun to touch your resources. You’re bound to beat them out in the end. . . . Now what are my instructions for the opening on Monday?’
“But he only sat there glowering and biting his fingers. I couldn’t get him up to the sticking-point. Your name was never mentioned, but we could all see that he wanted you to buck him up, and wouldn’t admit it. You must see him to-day, Kaplan, or we’ll all be in the soup. He’s going out of town over Sunday.”
“But I can’t see him unless he sends for me,” Joe objected. “If I go after him, he is bound to take the defensive, just as he did with you.”
“He’ll never send for you,” said Dodge gloomily, “because he’s ashamed to admit that a man as young as you has so much influence over him. . . . Couldn’t you run into him as if by accident?”
“What are his movements?”
“The four of us are lunching at Martin’s at one o’clock. After we’ve eaten, I’ll steer them into the café. Anybody could drop into the café.”
“But the three of you being there, he’d smell a rat for certain,” said Joe smiling.
“You could cover your tracks; you’re clever at that. . . . You must see him before he goes out of town!”
“Well, look here,” said Joe. “I’ll drop into Martin’s with some other fellows, see? It will be up to you to make Cooper Gillett invite me to your table.”
“Sure!” said Dodge, vastly relieved.
“And here’s a piece of advice for you,” Joe went on. “Don’t give him an indigestion of the subject during lunch. On the other hand, you mustn’t enter into a conspiracy of silence either, or that will make him suspicious. If the subject comes up, speak your minds on it, and let it drop again. Never nag a millionaire. That’s my motto.”
Joe came into Martin’s by the Broadway entrance, at the heels of the two friends he had picked up for the occasion. On Saturday afternoons everybody who was anybody in New York desired to show themselves at Martin’s, and the café was crowded. Joe was aware, as he passed down the room, that many heads were turned to follow him. He knew that they were beginning to call him “the Boy Wonder of the Street” and his heart exulted. Already he had succeeded in getting his head well above the ruck of the town.
He and his friends sat themselves down at a table against the back wall. The friends had their instructions. The three put their heads close together as if they had serious business to discuss, or some delightful plot to lay. Joe seemed not to see Cooper Gillett and his party who were seated at a larger table in the center of the room. In addition to Dodge, Gillett had with him Judge Keep, one of his attorneys; and Eddie Shriver, a young relative of his wife’s.
Out of the tail of his eye, Joe perceived the eager resentment with which Gillett beheld him. He could almost hear the millionaire say: “There’s the damned kid now! He don’t appear to be worrying!” There was no occasion for Dodge to exercise any diplomacy; for Gillett immediately dispatched Shriver to Joe’s table. Shriver was a good-looking young fellow with a blond beard, who did everything he was told.
“Mr. Gillett wants to speak to you,” he said to Joe.
Joe started with pleased surprise. “Hello, Eddie!” Looking eagerly beyond him, he waved his hands to his friends at the center table. Many people in the place were looking at them. “Meet Mr. Cummings and Mr. Underwood . . . Mr. Shriver. I’ll be with you in five minutes, Eddie. There are one or two things I have to settle with these gentlemen before they hustle for their train.”
Joe kept the multi-millionaire waiting a good quarter of an hour. Then, after bidding an ostentatious good-bye to his young friends, he strolled over. Joe found the atmosphere of Martin’s pleasantly stimulating. Before any of the quartet had a chance to speak, he said cheerfully:
“That was a nice little rise we had just before the close of the market.”
This diverted what Gillett was about to say. He looked disconcerted.
Joe occupied himself with a cigarette. “I hope you all sold while the selling was good,” he remarked.
“I’m already short forty thousand shares,” grumbled Gillett.
“The shorter you are, the more money you’ll make,” said Joe.
“How about Monday?”
“She’ll rise a couple of points more. Sell every share you can find a buyer for! . . . It wasn’t such a bad move to hold off for awhile. You’ll have a better market, Monday, because of it.”
An uncertain look came into Gillett’s red face. Joe caused his own face to look wooden. The stockbroker lowered his eyes. He could see that the current was already setting the other way.
“How about that item on the news ticker to-day?” asked Judge Keep. “It was stated that our new machine, wouldn’t work.”
“And it won’t either,” grumbled Shriver. “I can’t do anything with it.”
“I instigated that story,” said Joe, flicking the ash off his cigarette.
Gillett stared. “What the deuce for?” he demanded.
“To bring buyers for Mattison’s stock into the market,” said Joe. “We can’t continue to sell the stock short if there are no buyers. The thing was beginning to stagnate.”
“But we got all our publicity on that new machine. . . .”
“What of it?” said Joe. “They can’t take it away from us now. A new invention is news, but the failure of a new invention isn’t news. We’ll tap new sources of publicity.”
“But suppose I gave the order to sell, and Mattison’s stock still rises on Monday?” said Gillett.
“An hour or two after the opening she’ll flop,” said Joe casually.
“How do you know?”
Taking a paper from his pocket, he spread it out on the table. It was the page proof of a Sunday article for the newspapers, embellished with photographs. Joe, grinning, read out the headlines:
“Cooper Gillett buys another big factory! The young financier hot-foot on the trail of the trust!”
“Me, young?” said Gillett grinning, too.
“It endears you to the public,” said Joe.
“I didn’t buy the factory. I only have an option on it.”
“What’s in a word! It ’ll all be forgotten in a couple of days. . . . This will appear to-morrow in five of the biggest cities in the country. A whole page, see? It recapitulates the story of our other three factories. . . .”
“Which have never manufactured anything . . .” put in Shriver.
“The public doesn’t know that.”
“Good God! how much is this going to cost me?” asked Gillett, rapping the paper.
“Not a cent,” said Joe, grinning. “That’s the beauty of it. The magic name of Gillett is always news, see? It’s been accustomed to the front page for four generations. And what’s more, trust-busting is now the latest popular sport, and we got in just right. Mattison is the trust, and we’re the noble champions of the down-trodden common people! We’ve got him in a position where he can’t fight back. This story will send his stock off four or five points. That’ll give you a chance to cover, if you’re scared. As for me, I mean to hold on for a week longer, if I can string the banks along.
“Mattison’s not at the end of his rope yet. By straining his credit, he’ll be able to maintain his stock at a decent level for another week. I’ve got another story for next Sunday, and then he’ll be done. The bottom will fall out of the Trust. We’ll make a killing! When that happens, you must not be contented with covering, but buy! buy! buy! Spread your orders through a dozen houses.
“Mattison will have to come to us, then. We will ask for a million of their stock to cease hostilities. Technically, of course, he will be buying out our company. A million for our four junk factories which have never manufactured anything, and the good will of our business—it is to laugh! This, together with what you’ve bought on the market, will give you a controlling interest in the trust, and you will then be elected director and vice-president and the stock will jump twenty-five . . . forty points! Gee! what a killing!”
Gillett turned to Dodge. “Look here,” he said, “you wanted instructions for Monday. Dump a block of five thousand shares on the market at the opening; and go on selling as long as you can find takers. I don’t set any limit.”
Broad smiles surrounded the table. Only Joe looked indifferent.
An uncomfortable thought occurred to Gillett. “I say,” he objected, rubbing his lip; “when it comes out that I have sold out to the Trust, and been elected a vice-president, it’ll put me in a rotten light with the public.”
“Oh, it’ll all be forgotten in a week,” said Joe smoothly. “—By everybody except Mattison. We’ll give the public something else to think about if you like. . . . Look here, if you want to stand well with the public, I’ve got another scheme. . . .”
His three hearers leaned toward him.
“There’s been too many Trust Companies formed under the new banking law. Some of them are damned hard up for business. We’ll pick on one of them, and let it be quietly circulated around that it’s in a bad way, see? A bank is very sensitive to that sort of thing. We can pick up whatever stock comes into the market at a discount; and when our bank gets good and groggy—if there’s a run on it, so much the better; you can step forward and deposit a million in cash. Think of the publicity! They’d elect you president or anything else you were willing to take; and the stock would jump twenty-five points. You’d be hailed in the newspapers as the savior of the institution, and incidentally make a handsome profit, see? . . . It’s just as easy to work it one way as the other. . . .”
Business having been disposed of, the talk around the table slipped into undress. Joe, watchfully keeping all four of his auditors in play, made the running. He had diverse elements to deal with; for while Gillett and Dodge were frankly high livers, old Judge Keep was the pillar of some church or another; Eddie Shriver an easy-going young husband and father. Different as they were, they all yielded to Joe’s insinuating looseness. Joe had a smiling way of taking the worst for granted that the most prudish of men found difficult to withstand. He worked to bring a certain sly, sheepish grin into the faces of his hearers; and when that appeared, he knew they were his.
Secretly, Joe was weary of his present audience. They were too dull; too old; his power over them was too easy to exert; they made him feel like a second-rate performer. Glancing around the room to see who was looking at him, Joe perceived that a figure, vaguely familiar, had taken a seat at one of the small tables by the Twenty-Sixth street windows. It was that kid, Wilfred Pell, the white-faced kid; the kid with the funny look in his eyes.
Joe was immediately interested. That kid had always teased his interest; it was hard to say why, because it was a footless sort of kid; he cut no ice. But Joe had never been able to make him give in. There was a bad streak in him all right; it instantly responded to Joe’s suggestion; but the kid would not let himself go. Joe had never been able to make him look sheepish. Not that it mattered a damn; still . . . why hadn’t he been able to?
Now he looked as untidy as ever in his wrinkled, mouse-colored suit; it might almost have been the same suit he was wearing three years ago; and with much the same look in his eyes, but intensified by growing manliness; a sort of crazy, proud, hot look—what was that look? If he felt like that, why the hell didn’t he let himself go? Obviously a damn fool; one of these, morbid, solitary kids; rotten! But Joe couldn’t dismiss him; there was something there that he couldn’t get.
Joe saw that Wilfred had been watching him, though he quickly turned away his eyes when Joe looked. No greeting passed between the two. Wilfred’s look made Joe purr with gratification. Funny, that this insignificant kid had that effect, when Cooper Gillett’s ill-concealed admiration only bored him. What a contrast between the two of them. There was he, Joe, handsome, elegantly-dressed; sitting as an equal with some of the best-known men in New York, telling them things: and there was that other kid, just the same age, untidy and sallow-cheeked, sitting alone and unregarded, looking out of place in the swell joint. And Wilfred showed that he felt the contrast. You could almost see him grind his teeth when he looked at Joe. The kid hated him, yet he was crazy about him in a way; while his mouth was ugly with a sneer, his eyes had a certain slavish look in them, that Joe was familiar enough with. Joe looked in one of the mirrors and plumed himself, aware that this would make the kid feel worse.
Joe now experienced a renewed zest in entertaining his table companions. As a careless youth to youths he related the surprising adventures of his hours of ease, making out that they were not at all surprising. When he wished to make a good impression, Joe never allowed himself to boast, but let it be assumed that the other man was quite as bold, shameless, insatiable and lucky as himself. His middle-aged listeners fawned upon him in gratified vanity. Joe never looked again, but was always conscious of the hot-eyed spectator in the background. Let the kid see how I can make the famous Cooper Gillett eat out of my hand, he thought.
“. . . She was dining with her husband at the next table. I had Millie with me. Millie and the husband were sitting back to back, and that left the peach, facing me, see? All through the meal she kept looking at me in a certain way; you know how they do. They love to do it when they’re with their husbands. It’s a slap in the old man’s eye; and they feel safe when he’s there. Don’t expect to be taken up. But they don’t usually do it when you’ve already got such a pretty girl as Millie with you. That suggested to me that the peach must be damn sure of her charms, and I was interested. She was a peach!
“Usually, Millie is a good-natured little thing; and I suggested that she follow the peach into the ladies’ cloak-room, and make a date with her for me. But for some reason she got up on her ear—you know how it is with women; and refused. So I shook her. I timed it so’s I came out on the sidewalk right behind the peach and her hubby. I marched up to her and raised my hat. Gosh! she near died. Didn’t know which way to turn. But she was game. She recovered herself, and introduced me to the old man as Mr. Smithers. He was jealous as Hell. That made it twice as much fun, of course; you know! An old clothes-bag like that, hadn’t any right to have such a pretty wife, anyhow.
“The old man had called a hansom, and she invited me to ride up-town with them—since I lived just around the corner from them, as she said. The old man made out to sit in the middle, but that just suited me, because he had to sit forward a little, and the peach and I were able to talk sign language behind his back. And all the way up-town I need hardly say, she was real affectionate to him, pulling his ear, and rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. Isn’t that like a woman? By God! if I ever get a wife, I’ll recognize the danger signals! And she told him all about me, see? thus providing me with my cues. Oh! she was a clever little devil! When we got up to their flat, she sent him out to the delicatessen for bottled beer. . . .”
When the party at the round table broke up, they passed close beside Wilfred’s table on their way to the Twenty-Sixth street door. Joe did not look at Wilfred; but was pleasantly aware of the look that the other cast upon him as he went by.
Outside, Joe’s friends boarded cabs for their several destinations. Gillett and Keep went off together. Joe was left alone with a spice of anger in his breast. These men were willing to let him flatter them; willing to let him make money for them; but they never asked him home. However, the feeling quickly passed. To Hell with it! thought Joe; when I’m ready, I’ll make my way into any house in New York!
For the moment he was at a loose end. He hesitated on the sidewalk. Where to find amusement? A recollection of that kid’s queer look came back to him. Turning, he went through the doors again.