All nodded; a few said “yes”; one—Lindheim, aetat 27—said, flippantly, “That’s what.”
“Very well. What will each man’s proportion be?”
“I have a list here, Sharpe,” put in Greenbaum. He intentionally omitted the “Mr.” for effect upon his colleagues. Sharpe noted it, but did not mind it.
Sharpe read aloud:
| Greenbaum, Lazarus & Co | 38,000 shares. |
| I. & S. Wechsler | 14,000 shares. |
| Morris Steinfelder’s Sons | 14,000 shares. |
| Reis & Stern | 11,000 shares. |
| Kohn, Fischel & Co | 10,000 shares. |
| Silberman & Lindheim | 9,000 shares. |
| Rosenthal, Shaffran & Co | 9,800 shares. |
| Zeman Bros | 8,600 shares. |
| ______________ | |
| Total | 114,400 shares. |
“Is that correct, gentlemen?” asked Sharpe.
Greenbaum nodded his head and smiled affably as befitted the holder of the biggest block. Some said “Yes”; others, “That is correct.” Young Lindheim said, “That’s what.” The founders of the firm—his uncle and his father—were dead, and he had inherited the entire business from the two. His flippancy was not inherited from either.
“It is understood,” said Sharpe, slowly, “that I am to have complete charge of the pool, and conduct operations as I see fit. I want no advice and no questions. If there is any asking to be done, I’ll do it. If my way does not suit you we’ll call the deal off right here, because it’s the only way I have. I know my business, and if you know yours you’ll keep your mouths shut in this office and out of it.”
No one said a word, not even Lindheim.
“Each of you will continue to carry the stock for which he has agreed to stand in the pool. You’ve had it a year and couldn’t sell it, and you might keep it a few weeks more, until I sell it for you. It must be subject to my call at one minute’s notice. I’ve looked into the company’s business, and I think the stock can easily sell at 75 or 80.”