Out of the tail of his eye, Joe perceived the eager resentment with which Gillett beheld him. He could almost hear the millionaire say: “There’s the damned kid now! He don’t appear to be worrying!” There was no occasion for Dodge to exercise any diplomacy; for Gillett immediately dispatched Shriver to Joe’s table. Shriver was a good-looking young fellow with a blond beard, who did everything he was told.
“Mr. Gillett wants to speak to you,” he said to Joe.
Joe started with pleased surprise. “Hello, Eddie!” Looking eagerly beyond him, he waved his hands to his friends at the center table. Many people in the place were looking at them. “Meet Mr. Cummings and Mr. Underwood . . . Mr. Shriver. I’ll be with you in five minutes, Eddie. There are one or two things I have to settle with these gentlemen before they hustle for their train.”
Joe kept the multi-millionaire waiting a good quarter of an hour. Then, after bidding an ostentatious good-bye to his young friends, he strolled over. Joe found the atmosphere of Martin’s pleasantly stimulating. Before any of the quartet had a chance to speak, he said cheerfully:
“That was a nice little rise we had just before the close of the market.”
This diverted what Gillett was about to say. He looked disconcerted.
Joe occupied himself with a cigarette. “I hope you all sold while the selling was good,” he remarked.
“I’m already short forty thousand shares,” grumbled Gillett.
“The shorter you are, the more money you’ll make,” said Joe.
“How about Monday?”