"Very well," said Stoddard after waiting for a moment. "It's agreeable to me, I'm sure."
"I'm against it," declared Rimrock promptly. "I'm against any form of reorganization. I'm in favor of producing copper and taking our profits from that."
"But this is plain velvet," protested Buckbee, smilingly. "It's just like money picked up in the road. I don't think I know of any company of importance that hasn't done something of the kind."
"I'm against it," repeated Rimrock in his stubborn way and all eyes were turned upon Mary Fortune. She sat very quiet, but her anxious, lip-reading gaze shifted quickly from one to the other.
"Did you get that, Miss Fortune?" asked Buckbee suavely, "the proposition is to issue a hundred million shares of common and start them at, say, ten cents a share. Then by a little manipulation we can raise them to twenty and thirty, and from that on up to a dollar. At that price, of course, you can unload if you wish: I'll keep you fully informed."
"Yes, I understood it," she answered, "but I'm not in favor of it. I think all stock gambling is wrong."
"You—what?" exclaimed Buckbee, and Whitney H. Stoddard was so astounded that he was compelled to unmask. His cold, weary eyes became predatory and eager and a subtle, scornful smile twisted his lips. Even Rimrock was surprised, but he leaned back easily and gave her a swift, approving smile. She was with him, that was enough; let the stock gamblers rage. He had won in the very first bout.
"But my dear Miss Fortune," began Stoddard, still smiling, "do you realize what you have done? You have rejected a profit, at the very least, of one or two million dollars."
"That may be," she said, "but I prefer not to take it unless we give something in return."
"But we do!" broke in Buckbee, "that stock is legitimate. The people that buy in will get rich."