“Some sort of specimens, I suppose,” he commented. “The old man was bugs on rocks, I’ve heard. You can keep the valuables and I’ll take charge of this truck. Let’s get out of here.”
Lang was overjoyed to get out of there. He was in terror lest some one else should enter unawares. He had cold chills at the thought of being arrested for housebreaking, a newspaper exposure, his career doubly ruined. He tucked the stock certificates in his inside pocket, and after reconnoitering the road they slipped out and started for the Gulf coast shell road.
It was still early morning when they reached the electric car line and rode into Biloxi; and still early in the day when the railway placed them again in Mobile. Carroll was impatient to visit a brokerage office at once; he knew the cashier at Norcross & Dixon’s, he said; but Lang insisted on a delay while he revisited his hotel room and changed his water-stained suit, had a shave and his shoes shined, put on a better hat, and made himself look fit for business negotiations. Afterward he congratulated himself a thousand times on this forethought.
Norcross & Dixon dealt principally in cotton and grain, and there was a flurry on the cotton exchange that day. The customers’ room was crowded; prices were rushing up. Farmers, planters, smart city men, shabby hangers-on, bulls all of them, watched the blackboard and applauded wildly at every advance, and the wires to New Orleans were hot with orders.
Lang looked on while Carroll went to find the cashier he knew, and presently Carroll came back and conducted him to Mr. Dixon’s office. The broker was a little dapper man, with a pointed black beard, and a dry, punctilious manner. He looked wary and nervous and tired, and he acknowledged the introduction curtly.
“How’s Yuma Oil?” Carroll inquired.
“It closed yesterday at 63; opened this morning at 60-1/2. It’s now at”—he went to look at the ticker—“the last quotation was 59-3/4.”
“We want to sell,” said Carroll promptly.
“It’s a lively proposition just now. I’d have to ask ten or fifteen points margin.”
“Oh, we’ve got the certificates,” Carroll returned. “Get them out, doctor.”