XVII. THE FINANCIER
This is how I became a West African mining magnate with a stake in the Empire.
During February I grew suddenly tired of waiting for the summer to begin. London in the summer is a pleasant place, and chiefly so because you can keep on buying evening papers to read the cricket news. In February life has no such excitements to offer. So I wrote to my solicitor about it.
"I want you," I wrote, "to buy me fifty rubber shares, so that I can watch them go up and down." And I added, "Brokerage one-eighth," to show that I knew what I was talking about.
He replied tersely as follows:
"Don't be a fool. If you have any money to invest I can get you a safe mortgage at five per cent. Let me know."
It's a funny thing how the minds of solicitors run upon mortgages. If they would only stop to think for a moment they would see that you couldn't possibly watch a safe mortgage go up and down. I left my solicitor alone and consulted Henry on the subject. In the intervals between golf and golf Henry dabbles in finance.
"You don't want anything gilt-edged, I gather," he said. It's wonderful how they talk.
"I want it to go up and down," I explained patiently, and I indicated the required movement with my umbrella.
"What about a little flutter in oil?" he went on, just like a financier in a novel.