Bean would have made nothing of that. He would have been bored, until Markham made a reference to fifty shares that happened to be owned by a young chap in the outer office.
"Take 'em over," said one heavy-jowled director who incongruously held a cigarette between lips that seemed to demand the largest and blackest of cigars.
"He won't sell," answered Markham. "I spoke to him."
"Tell him to," said the director to Breede.
"Tell him yourself," said Breede. "He said he wouldn't sell."
"Um! Well, well!" said the director.
"Exactly what I told him," remarked the conscientious Tully, who was present to take notes, "and he said to me, 'Mr. Tully, I am unwilling to imagine anything of less consequence.' He seemed, uh—I might say—decided."
"Gave me the same thing," said Markham.
"Leak in the office," announced the elderly advanced dresser. "Fifty shares!" he added, twirling the glasses on their silk ribbon. "Hell! Going to let him get away with it?"
"Got to be careful," suggested a quiet director who had listened. "Can't tell who's back of him."