“You have been admitted under that impression,” Mr. Herzog said this sternly—a rebuke for a falsehood rather than irritation over what seemed likely to be the wasting of a very busy banker’s valuable time. The young man before him did not look shabby enough to be a professional mendicant, but there was something deferential about his manner that might mean a more expensive appeal. Amateurs have exaggerated ideas.
“Excuse me, Mr. Herzog. I told your man, when he thought you couldn’t or wouldn’t see me, that I came from Mr. Dawson’s office to see you. It’s true. I did leave him a few minutes ago. I know your reputation, Mr. Herzog, and I have come to you because I am in need of help.”
Mr. Herzog was famous as a philanthropist. He maintained at his own expense a sort of personal charity bureau to which applicants for help were referred, that he might give much but, above all, that he might give intelligently. He spoke to the young man with cold austerity: “I beg to refer you to Mr. Asiel, room 82, upstairs, sir. He will investigate your case. But I do not like the way in which you have gained admission to this office, sir.” He nodded dismissingly.
“One moment, Mr. Herzog,” said Grin-nell, smiling. “I wish your help in a business matter. I wish to buy one hundred million dollars of the best railroad bonds.”
A spasm of alarm contracted Mr. Herzog’s face. It passed and he said soothingly, with an accent more Germanic than ever: “Why, yes, of course. Yes, yes! I shall be very glad to do so. I will ask the gentleman in charge of our bond department to do as you wish. He is a very nice young man; a very competent young man. He knows all about bonds. Will you allow me to go after him? I shall return directly.”
Grinnell laughed out and out. It was a laugh unaffectedly merry. But Mr. Herzog turned pale and breathed a bit quickly.
The young man drew from his pocket-book some checks.
“Here are four certified checks for one million dollars each, and a draft on Waring Bros., of London, for two millions sterling. Won’t you please look at them before you go for the nice young man in charge of your bond department?”
Mr. Herzog instead looked at the door; the young man barred his exit. He was atavistically a fatalist. What was to be, was to be. Mr. Herzog, calm now from resignation, turned to the checks. One look was enough. His face changed, but having grown resigned to death, the banker did not now sigh with relief. He merely said, very quietly, as if he were resuming the thread of his conversation: “Perhaps you will tell me which bonds you wish to buy?”
“Yes, sir; but before I tell you that, let me tell you this: I come to you because I have absolute confidence in your wisdom and in the integrity of your firm. I wish to buy a hundred millions of bonds, on margin—a margin of fifty per cent or more. None must know of this transaction excepting yourself and those of your partners who must, in the nature of things, know it. I require no pledge but your word.”