“Well, we may be able to beat Ketchim. Now, my father and Uncle John––”
“Oh, shoot your father and Uncle John!” snapped Reed impatiently.
The conductor opened the door and bawled a cryptical announcement.
“This is the place,” said Reed, starting up and making for the door. “And now you rake your thought for some way to deal with Ketchim. And leave your father and Uncle John entirely out of the conversation!”
Ketchim was just bowing out a caller as the young engineers mounted the steps. “See that fellow!” he exclaimed, after giving them a hearty welcome. “I just sold him a hundred shares of Simití stock, at five dollars a share––just half of par. Beginning right on the jump, eh?”
“But––” protested Harris, as they entered the spacious parlor, “the company isn’t even in existence yet––and hasn’t an asset!”
“Oh, that’s all right,” replied Ketchim easily. “It’s coming into existence, and will have the grandest mine in South America! Boys,” he went on earnestly, “I’ve been talking over the ’phone with Mr. Ames, our most influential stockholder, and a very warm friend of mine. I told him about our conversation of yesterday. He says, go right ahead with the new company––that it’s a great idea. He’s satisfied with his present holding, and will not increase it. Says he wants Molino stockholders to have the opportunity to purchase all the treasury stock, if they want to.”
“Decidedly magnanimous,” returned Reed. “But––what about the basis of organization of the new company?”
“Leave it as we planned it, he says. He thinks the arrangement and division of stock fine!”