“No. Just stick around. I’m coming right up.”
I walked back to the car and said to Ashbury, “Okay, drive me up to the Commons Building if you will — or I can take a taxi.”
“No. I want to keep my finger on the pulse of things.”
Ashbury waited outside while I went up to the office. Rich was waiting for me when I came in. He pumped my hand up and down, and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Fischler! The shrewdest buying brain I’ve contacted in fifteen years of salesmanship. You win!”
He took my arm and piloted me into the private office as though he owned the joint. He whipped a stock certificate out of his pocket and said, “There you are. One share. Here you are. An option agreement duly signed by the president and secretary of the company.”
“You work fast,” I said.
“I had to, to put a deal like that across. They hit the ceiling, but I explained to them that your money wasn’t available right at the moment, that you were a hundred per cent sold, that you’d make us a good stockholder, that you—”
He kept on talking, but I quit listening. I was reading the option agreement. To my surprise, it was exactly what I had instructed him to have. I signed an okay on the duplicate option agreement, gave him one thousand dollars, and put the share of stock and original option agreement in my pocket. The option was signed by Robert Tindle as president and E. E. Matts, secretary. I shook hands with Rich, told him I had an appointment, and eased him out of the office. I said to Elsie, “Remember, you’re to keep the office open until I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m out of town on a business trip.”