Jerningham ceased going to the VanTwiller Trust Company because Ashton Welles had sailed for London on the receipt of a cablegram that read:
Leaving for Continent. Mother and I cannot return before three months. Will write soon.
Anne.
Instead of calling on his friend Stewardson, Jerningham preferred to spend hours and hours conversing with Patrick T. Behan, “the most dangerous man in Wall Street!”—and the slickest. But on the day before the election Jerningham did call on Stewardson and offered to sell his holdings of VanTwiller stock at six hundred dollars a share.
“Why, I thought you—” began the vice-president.
“I know you did. I wanted you to. But six hundred dollars is only twenty-five dollars a share more than Behan, and Judson, and Garvin, and the rest of those pirates have offered me. I've decided not to be a stockholder of the trust company; so just get your friends together and tell them if they want to retain the control they can give you a check for me—six hundred dollars a share on twenty-eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-three shares. Put it down—twenty-eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-three shares. Good day!”
“Wait! I want to say—”
“Don't say it! Write it! I'm still at the Brabant,” said Jerningham, coldly. “I advise you to get at Mr. Welles on the steamer by wireless. Good day!”
“But, I—” shouted Stewardson.
Jerningham paid no attention to him and walked away.