CHAPTER XV.
IN THE GRASP OF THE MARKET.
“Mr. Atherton, do you know if Mr. George Warren has any D. & G. stock?” asked Jack of his employer that afternoon.
It was a rather cheeky thing for the boy to do, but then he was something of a privileged character with the boss.
“I believe he has. At least, we bought a block of it for him some time ago. There’s been an advance in it yesterday and to-day, but I don’t fancy it will go any higher. Anybody ask you for the information?” asked Mr. Atherton, pointedly.
“No, sir; I was thinking of buying a few shares myself on margin.”
“Well, I guess Warren will let you have what he has at sixty-two, if you would like to buy it outright. It’ll cost you about three hundred and ten thousand dollars cash,” said Mr. Atherton, with an amused smile.
“I don’t think my bank account would stand for that,” answered Jack, with a grin.
“Seriously, Jack,” said his boss, “I wouldn’t advise you to buy any stock on margins. I don’t want you to catch the fever. It’s dangerous. You’ve no idea of the money engaged in productive industry, money earned by hard years of labor and economy, money held in trust for widows and orphans, money stolen from banks and corporations, money abstracted by clerks and office boys, is carried into Wall Street, in the vain hope of acquiring a sudden fortune, and there remains.”
Mr. Atherton turned to his desk, and Jack went back to his duties, satisfied he had learned something, at any rate.
“How could I find out if Bentley & Clews have any D. & G. stock?” asked Jack of Mr. Bishop, at the first opportunity.
“Why do you wish to know?” asked the manager, perhaps a bit sharply, for the question coming from Jack rather surprised him.
“I have a personal reason for wishing to know,” replied the boy, respectfully.
Mr. Bishop looked at him a moment or two before he answered.
“I happen to know that Bentley & Clews have no D. & G. stock in their possession—at least, they didn’t have an hour ago. They delivered a large block of it this morning to Mr. Hartz—all they had on hand.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Of course, whatever I tell you or you may accidentally learn while in our employ must go no further. You understand that, I suppose?”
“Certainly, sir.”
That night, before Jack went to the theatre, he had decided to buy as many shares of D. & G. on a ten-per-cent margin as he could afford.
The bank where Jack had his money on deposit—except $500 with which he had reopened an account at the Seaman’s Savings—had a department devoted to the purchase and sale, through outside brokers, of stock for the accommodation of its customers.
D. & G. opened at 62⅜, and as soon as he got a chance the boy ran over to the bank, saw Mr. Black, who had charge of the department in question, and asked him to buy for his account 700 shares of D. & G. at the ruling figure, provided that in the meantime the stock did not go above 63.
Mr. Black ’phoned one of their brokers, but it was some little time before that number of shares was obtained, as it seemed to be scarce that morning. At any rate, it cost Jack 63, the 700 shares figuring up $44,100. Ten per cent of the purchase price, or $4,410, Jack drew and paid to Mr. Black.
When the Exchange closed for the day D. & G. was quoted at 64⅝, and Jack was therefore something like $1,000 to the good.
“I was up in the Bronx to-day, John, visiting the Deans,” said his mother, at the supper table. “They have a very nice place there, and it only cost them about $5,000. I think it would be a good idea if you went up that way next Sunday and took a look around. There are a lot of nice houses for sale in that locality. You have some money in bank now—enough to buy a nice little place. I am sure it would be much more comfortable to live in our own house and much healthier than to continue here, where the neighborhood is so crowded. Annie and I were talking the matter over before you came in. She’d like to go with you, and I am sure the exercise and fresh air would be good for her.”
“All right, mother,” agreed Jack. “We’ll take Ed along, too.”
“Will you?” said his sister, brightening up.
“Sure. He’ll be glad to go, sis. He thinks there isn’t another girl who can hold a candle to you.”
“The idea!” said Annie, with a blush.
“Yes, the idea!” he said, mimicking her. “What are you blushing about?”
“Why, I’m not blushing,” she answered, in evident confusion.
“You’re not blushing? I’ll leave it to mother,” said Jack, merrily.
“You mustn’t tease your sister, John.”
“All right,” said Jack, obediently, “if that’s the orders.”
“You’re real mean,” said Annie, with a charming little pout. “Suppose I was to tease you about Millie Price?”
“Pooh! What about her?”
“Oh, you think I don’t know anything about her. Ed told me lots about you and her.”
“Did he? Then I’ll murder him; see if I don’t,” cried the boy, shaking his fist, with mimic ferocity, in the air.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” laughed Annie, clapping her hands, gleefully.
“I’m going to bring her up to see you some Sunday,” said Jack.
“That will be real nice,” said Annie, with much interest. “Why not next Sunday. Bring her to dinner, and then we can all go to the Bronx together in the afternoon. Mother, make Jack promise to do that.”
“I should be very glad to have her come to dinner, John, if you would like to have her come.”
“All right, sis; I’ll ask her if she will come. I’ve had the plan in my head some time, but somehow I never thought to ask you.”
“I don’t believe a word of that, Jack,” said his sister, tantalizingly. “You were afraid I’d tease you about her. You know you were.”
“Nonsense!” objected the boy, flushing up in his turn.
“Who’s blushing now?” and Annie laughed gleefully.
Jack jumped up and chased his sister several times about the table, but failed to catch her till she took refuge on the floor beside her mother.
He grabbed her in his arms.
“Now, that’s not fair! Is it, mother?”
Jack’s answer was a rousing kiss.
“You big bear!” she exclaimed, pushing him away, while her eyes fairly danced with fun.
Jack dreamed that night that his D. & S. stock had gone up out of sight and that he had made $10,000,000.
For the rest of the week, whenever he had the chance, he kept his eye on the indicator that ticked out its monotonous song in the reception-room during business hours, and every day D. & S. advanced, sometimes with provoking slowness and sometimes with little bounds, like a boy chasing himself up a flight of stairs.
But the tendency was always upward.
“When will it stop?” mused the lad; “when go the other way? How long dare I hold on?”
And Millie Price watched his eager attention to that fatal piece of mechanism with an anxious eye.
She said nothing.
He hadn’t told her he had embarked in the treacherous whirlpool of Wall Street speculation again, but she knew with the unerring accuracy of a sympathetic and deeply interested observer experienced in all the signs that go with the game.
And it worried her—for exactly how much she thought of Jack no one but herself in this world knew.