He ceased speaking. Martha drew a long breath. Mr. Cabot looked very much puzzled. Raish slowly shook his head. “Well!” he began; tried again, but only succeeded in repeating the word. Then he blurted out his next question.
“Who'd you buy them shares for?”
“Eh? For?”
“Yes, for. Who did you buy Cap'n Jeth's and Martha's stock for? Who got you to buy it? 'Twasn't the Trust Company crowd, was it?”
“The Trust Company? I beg pardon? Oh, I see—I see. Dear me, no. I bought the stock myself, quite on my own responsibility, Mr. Pulcifer.”
Raish could not believe it. “You bought it yourself!” he repeated. “No, no, you don't get me. I mean whose money paid for it?”
“Why, my own.”
Still it was plain that Horatio did not believe. As a matter of fact, the conviction that Galusha Bangs was poverty-stricken was so thoroughly implanted in the Pulcifer mind that not even a succession of earthquakes like the recent disclosures could shake it loose. But Raish did not press the point, for at that moment a new thought came to him. His expression changed and his tone changed with it.
“Say, Bangs,” demanded he, eagerly, “do you mean you've still got that six hundred and fifty Development? Mean you ain't turned 'em over yet to anybody else?”
“Eh? Why, no, Mr. Pulcifer, I haven't—ah—turned them over to any one else.”