“That was a fictitious market for that stock, and we won’t pay you a damned cent!” he swore.
“It wasn’t a fictitious market when you accepted my order to buy. You let me in then, all right, and now you’ve got to let me out. You can’t get around that for fairness, can you?”
“Yes, I can!” he yelled. “I can prove that somebody put up a job.”
“Who put up a job?” I asked.
“Somebody!”
“Who did they put it up on?” I asked.
“Some friends of yours were in it as sure as pop,” he said.
But I told him, “You know very well that I play a lone hand. Everybody in this town knows that. They’ve known it ever since I started trading in stocks. Now I want to give you some friendly advice: you just send and get that money for me. I don’t want to be disagreeable. Just do what I tell you.”
“I won’t pay it. It was a rigged-up transaction,” he yelled.
I got tired of his talk. So I told him: “You’ll pay it to me right now and here.”