“How much more?”
“Perhaps twenty or thirty thousand dollars.”
Lockwood whistled softly.
“But I understood that no more was on the market.”
“Yes. But a member of the company has just died—so Mr. Hanna says—and his shares are to be sold. He showed us the letter. They want one hundred and twenty dollars a share now. Mr. Hanna said he could get two hundred dollars, but he wanted to let his friends in first. There are about three hundred shares, and the boys are wild to have them.”
“I see,” said Lockwood dryly. “But nothing has been done yet?”
“They talked it all over last night. Mr. Hanna didn’t urge it much, but he said it was the chance of a lifetime; he thinks the shares may be worth five hundred dollars in a year or two. I said all I could against it, but it didn’t do any good. The boys don’t think a woman knows anything of business, but they do think a great deal of your opinion, and I wish you’d give them some advice.”
“Well, there’s only one thing I could say—that I don’t believe the stock is worth a cent, that I don’t believe there is any oil well at all, and perhaps not even any company. But I couldn’t say that without some definite information to back it up.”
“Of course, Hanna would deny everything you said, and I suppose papa and the boys would take his word,” said Louise in distress. “That man seems to have bewitched them all. Wish he had never come here. He tormented me so in New Orleans——”
“In New Orleans!” Lockwood exclaimed.