One wrote something on a strip of paper and handed it to the other, who nodded, and made an offer.
“That’s our idea,” he said. “I don’t mind admitting that it will cost us twenty cents on the dollar.”
“No,” said Stirling, “it’s going to cost you just whatever I like to call it. I can swing every dollar that stock stands for up to two or three. Will you do me the favor to glance at that certificate?”
Wannop handed it to the nearest man, and the latter’s face fell.
“Now,” said Stirling, “at the moment, you’re the only people anxious to buy; but I’ve only to send that certificate and a nicely worked-up account of the rich new find around to the press, and everybody with a dollar to spare will be wanting Grenfell stock. Still, there’ll be no shares available—I’ve made sure of that. I’ll ask you, as men with some knowledge of these matters, where’s the price going to?”
One of the men sat down limply.
“What’ll you take to hold the thing over until after settling day?” he asked.
“In money?” inquired Stirling, whose face grew hard. “If you put it that way, we’ll call it half your personal estate.”
The second man, who saw that his companion had been injudicious, hastily broke in.
“No,” he said; “in the shape of mutual accommodation. Perhaps there’s some little arrangement you might like us to make.”