And then, months after, Andrew came on the scene. At lunch one day he happened to mention that he had been talking to his broker.
"Do you often talk to your broker?" I asked in admiration. It sounded so magnificent.
"Often."
"I haven't got a broker to talk to. When you next chat to yours, I wish you'd lead the conversation round to Jaguars and see what he says."
"Why, have you got some?"
"Yes, but they're no good. Have a cigarette, won't you?"
Next morning to my amazement I got a telegram from Andrew. "Can get you ten shillings for Jaguars. Wire if you will sell, and how many."
It was really a shock to me. When I had asked Andrew to mention Jaguars to his broker it was solely in the hope of hearing some humorous City comment on their futility—one of those crisp jests for which the Stock Exchange is famous. I had no idea that his broker might like to buy them from me.
I wired back: "Sell fifty, quick."
Next day he told me he had sold them.