"For stealing valuable pearls from some foreign woman. A trumped-up charge, of course."
Goldstein rubbed the palms of his hands softly together. His face wore a look of supreme content.
"Arrested! Ah, that is bad, Mr. Merrick. It is very bad indeed. And it involves us—the Continental, you know—in an embarrassing manner."
"Why so?" asked Uncle John.
"Can't you see, sir?" asked the manager, trying hard to restrain a smile. "If the papers get hold of this affair, and state that our president—our biggest owner—the man who controls the Continental stock—is a common thief, the story will—eh—eh—put a bad crimp in our business, so to speak."
Uncle John looked at the man thoughtfully.
"So Jones controls the Continental, eh?" he said. "How long since, Mr.
Goldstein?"
"Why, since the January meeting, a year and more ago. It was an astonishing thing, and dramatic—believe me! At the annual meeting of stockholders in walks this stripling—a mere kid—proves that he holds the majority of stock, elects himself president and installs a new board of directors, turning the tired and true builders of the business out in the cold. Then, without apology, promise or argument, President Jones walks out again! In an hour he upset the old conditions, turned our business topsy-turvy and disappeared with as little regard for the Continental as if it had been a turnip. That stock must have cost him millions, and how he ever got hold of it is a mystery that has kept us all guessing ever since. The only redeeming feature of the affair was that the new board of directors proved decent and Jones kept away from us all and let us alone. I'd never seen him until he came here a few days ago and began to order me around. So, there, Mr. Merrick, you know as much about Jones as I do."
Mr. Merrick was perplexed. The more he heard of young Jones the more amazing; the boy seemed to be.
"Has the Continental lost money since Jones took possession?" he inquired.