“You bet you don't know! The main thing is to buy right. And I'm goin' to put you wise—yes, sir, wise to somethin' I wouldn't let every Tom, Dick, and Harry in on, by a consider'ble sight. I think I can locate a fair-sized block of that stock at—well, at a little bit underneath the market price. I believe—yes, sir, I believe I can get it for you at—at as low as eighteen dollars a share. I won't swear I can, of course, but I MAY be able to. Only you'll have to promise not to tell anybody how you got it.”
“Eighteen dollars a share? Is that a fair price, do you think, Mr. Pulcifer?”
“FAIR price?” Mr. Pulcifer was overcome by the absurdity of the question. “A fair price!” he repeated. “Man alive, it's a darned LOW price! You buy Wellmouth Development at that price and then set back and hang on. Yes, sir, that's all you'll have to do, just hang on and wait.”
To his surprise, Mr. Bangs seemed to find something humorous in this suggestion. Instead of appearing thrilled, as he certainly should, he smiled.
“Ah—yes,” he observed, quietly. “That is what my friend has been doing, I believe. Yes, indeed, just that.”
Raish did not smile. He looked puzzled and a bit perturbed.
“What friend?” he demanded. “Been doin' what?”
“Hanging on and waiting, as you advise, Mr. Pulcifer. She has had—ah—several shares of the Development stock and she—”
“Hold on! Did you come here to SELL somebody's stock for 'em?”
“Why, no, not exactly. But, as I say, a friend of mine has some and she was anxious to know what it was worth at the present time. When I tell her that you will give eighteen dollars a share for it—”