The short, ill-favored man strolled over and condescended to make Mr. Felix's acquaintance. An hour later the three of them were closeted among the zitherns. At the same moment the fifteen operators were ranged in a line in front, of a neighboring bar, their elbows simultaneously elevated at an angle of forty-five degrees.
Felix still had lingering doubts. Hadn't Mr. McPherson some little paper—a letter, a bill, a receipt or a check, to show that he was really in the employ of the Western Union? No, said "Mac," but he had something better—the badge which he had received as the fastest operator among the company's employees. Felix wanted to see it, but "Mac" explained that it was locked up in the vault at the Farmers' Loan and Trust Co. To Felix this had a safe sound—"Farmers' Trust Co." Then matters began to move rapidly. It was arranged that Felix should go down in the morning and get $50,000 from his bankers, Seligman and Meyer. After that he was to meet Nelson at the store and go with him to the pool room where the big financiers played their money. McPherson was to remain at the "office" and telephone them the results of the races in advance. By nightfall they would be worth half a million.
"I hope you have a good large safe," remarked Nelson, tentatively. The three conspirators parted with mutual expressions of confidence and esteem.
Next morning Mr. Felix went to his bankers and procured $50,000 in five ten-thousand-dollar bills. The day passed very slowly. There was not even a flurry in zitherns. He waited impatiently for Nelson who was to come at five o'clock. At last Nelson arrived and they hurried to the Fifth Avenue Hotel where the coup was to take place.
And now another marvel. Wassermann Brothers' stock-brokering office, which closes at three hummed just as the "office" had done the evening before—and with the very same bees, although Felix did not recognize them. It was crowded with men who struggled violently with one another in their eagerness to force their bets into the hands of a benevolent-looking person, who, Felix was informed, was the "trusted cashier" of the establishment. And the sums were so large that even Felix gasped.
"Make that $40,000 on Coco!" cried a bald-headed "capper."
"Mr. Gates wants to double his bet on Jackstone,—make it $80,000!" shrieked another.
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" begged the "trusted cashier," "not quite so fast, if you please. One at a time."
"Sixty thousand on Hesper—for a place!" bawled one addressed as "Mr. Keene," while Messrs. "Ryan," "Whitney," "Belmont," "Sullivan," "McCarren," and "Murphy" all made handsome wagers.
From time to time a sporty-looking man standing beside a ticker, shouted the odds and read off the returns. Felix heard with straining ears: