As he stood ready to knock on the door, the sound of a familiar voice broke upon his ear. Nuggy Polk was inside, talking to Mrs. Bartlett and Jennie.
“I think it’s foolishness that you won’t let me talk to Mr. Bartlett,” Nuggy was saying. “I have travelled all the way from the United States for that purpose.”
“I am sorry, but my husband is very low,” answered the lady of the house. “That last fire completely unnerved him; and our doctor says, if he is not kept perfectly quiet, he may go out of his mind completely.”
“I won’t excite him, Mrs. Bartlett. In fact, I think what I have to say will make him feel better.”
“I presume you came to see about his shares in the Richmond Importing Company.”
“That’s it. I came to offer him a fair price for his stock. He knows the company is about on its last legs, and that the stock is hardly worth a pinch of salt. But my father wants to push things and build the company up again, and he is willing to give an old shareholder like Mr. Bartlett a fair price for his holdings.”
“I don’t think my husband wishes to sell out.”
At this Nuggy Polk’s face grew dark. “He’ll make the mistake of his life, if he doesn’t sell out,” he returned. “For, if my father can’t get hold of the stock, he intends to drop the whole thing; and then the company will be bankrupt inside of three months, and the stock won’t be worth the paper it’s printed on. If you are wise, you’ll get him to sell out, and without delay.”
“I shan’t bother him now.”
“But I’ve just said it won’t bother him,” persisted the young man from Richmond.