“This is Mr. Merrill, of Merrill & Moore, I believe?” asked Craig, quietly, reminding them that in their suave haste they had forgotten to introduce him.
“Yes,” returned Merrill, flushing a bit, for he was a great stickler for punctilious etiquette, and his failure had betrayed the anxiety he sought to conceal.
It was a ticklish situation and the brokers, always conservative, were making it worse. Nor could one blame them. The case for the stock looked at its darkest, verging rapidly on panic.
Kennedy knew it all just as well as they did. But he kept his coolness admirably and never betrayed that he was doing a thing more than to drive a bargain, whereas another might have given them an impression of merely stalling for time.
As the downward trend continued, I saw that Craig was indeed calculating how far he would let it go, as though one were letting himself down a hill and testing just how little he needed to apply the brakes not to have the car run away from him.
It seemed to nettle the brokers. They wanted to close the whole matter up brusquely. Yet Kennedy’s commanding personality checked them. I felt sure that they would even have ridden rough-shod over Shelby. Kennedy was another matter.
Dexter rose decisively. “This must stop,” he frowned.
“I have orders from Mr. Maddox to buy shares—well, I shall not say what it totals, but the first order is for ten thousand,” cut in Kennedy, quietly.
There was a moment of silence during which the brokers looked at each other, waiting for one to take the initiative.
“That is just the point,” began Merrill, finally. “You see, we have been buying steadily for Mr. Maddox. If he had authorized us by letter—or if he had handed us a check, certified—”