The Beaubien turned to the butler. “William, Mr. Gannette is not drinking wine this evening.” The butler bowed and removed the glasses from that gentleman’s place.
Gannette turned to expostulate. “Now, Lucile––” he began peevishly. The Beaubien held up a hand. Gannette glowered and sank down in his chair like a swollen toad.
“May be Ames is trying to break into the C. and R. directors’ meeting,” suggested Weston, himself a director in a dozen companies, and a bank president besides. A general laugh followed the remark.
“They tell me,” said Fitch, “that for once Ames has been outwitted, and that by a little bucket-shop broker named Ketchim.”
“How’s that?” queried Kane, Board of Trade plunger, and the most mettlesome speculator of the group.
“Why,” explained Weston, “some months ago Ames tried to reach Ed. Stolz through Ketchim, the old man’s nephew, and get control of C. and R. But friend nephew dropped the portcullis just as Ames was dashing across the drawbridge, and J. Wilton found himself outside, looking through the bars. First time I’ve ever known that to happen. Now the boys have got hold of it on ‘Change, and Ames has been getting it from every quarter.”
“Long time leaking out, seems to me,” remarked Kane. “But what’s Ames going to do about it?”
“Nothing, I guess,” returned Weston. “He seems to have dropped the matter.”
“I think you will find yourself mistaken,” put in the Beaubien evenly.