“Make out a check for $35,000 payable to Mrs. Rose Hunt, and transfer the 100 Manhattan Electric Light 5s to my personal account.”
He gave her the check and told her: “Here is the money. I am very sorry that I unwittingly caused you some anxiety. But all’s well that ends well. Any time that I can be of service to you—Not at all. Don’t thank me, please; no. Good morning.”
But he did not tell her that by taking over her account he paid $96,000 for bonds he could have bought in the open market for $93,000. He was the politest man in Wall Street; and, after all, he had known Hunt for many years.
A week later Manhattan Electric 5–per cent bonds sold at 96 again. Mrs. Hunt called on him. It was noon, and she evidently had spent the morning mustering up courage for the visit. They greeted one another, she embarrassed and he courteous and kindly as usual.
“Mr. Colwell, you still have those bonds, haven’t you?”
“Why, yes.”
“I—I think I’d like to take them back.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Hunt. I’ll find out how much they are selling for.” He summoned a clerk to get a quotation on Manhattan Electric 5s. The clerk telephoned to one of their bond-specialists, and learned that the bonds could be bought at 96½. He reported to Mr. Colwell, and Mr. Colwell told Mrs. Hunt, adding: “So you see they are practically where they were when you bought them before.”
She hesitated. “I—I—didn’t you buy them from me at 93? I’d like to buy them back at the same price I sold them to you.”
“No, Mrs. Hunt,” he said; “I bought them from you at 96.”