“No. It’s for one of the biggest men in the Street, Newt. It’s all right. Absolutely O. K.”
And thus reassured, Hartley bought the stock. The price was 118. The seller would hold Hartley responsible for the purchase money if Hayward “laid down”—refused to pay.
Sally wiped his forehead twice, quite unnecessarily. The shorts were not stampeding. Any attempt to sell out the 15,000 shares he had bought would result only in depressing the price, five points at least. It was worse than bad, the outlook for him.
He gave another order to buy 5,000 shares to “Billy” Lansing, an old and reliable two-dollar broker, but Lansing declined it. He tried another, but the order was not accepted. They mistrusted him; but he could not even bluster, for they excused themselves on the ground of having important orders elsewhere. So he had recourse to another personal friend—J. G. Thompson.
“Joe, buy 5,000 Sugar.”
“Are you sober?” said Thompson, seriously.
“See for yourself,” answered Sally, laughingly. He had nerve. “Old man, I’ve got a very big order from one of the biggest men in the Street. Some important developments are going on.”
“Sally, are you sure you’ve got an order from some one else?” asked the unconvinced broker. His incredulity was obviously in the nature of an insult, but it was pardonable, for there was too much at stake.
“Joe, come over to the office and I’ll show you.—Really, I can’t tell you. But I can advise you, as a friend, to buy Sugar for all you are worth.” And as he uttered the lie he looked straight into Thompson’s eyes.
“Hayward, are you sure? Are you sure you’re not making a mistake?” He wanted the commission of $100, but he did not feel certain of his friend.