“It was in Gurley’s name—he’d bought it himself.”
“A little queer,” Mills remarked. “There were only a few old stockholders who had blocks of two hundred—Larsen, Skinner, Saintsbury; and Shep and Leila had the same amount. None of them would be selling now. Suppose you step over to the Trust Company and see where Gurley got this. It makes no particular difference—I’m just a little curious. There’s been no talk about the merger—no gossip?”
“Nothing that I’ve heard. I’m pretty sure Gurley had no inkling of it. If he had, of course he wouldn’t have let go at the price he asked.”
When Carroll went out Mills took a turn across the floor. Before resuming his chair he stood for a moment at the window looking off toward the low hills vaguely limned on the horizon. His mood had changed. He greatly disliked to be puzzled. And he was unable to account for the fact that Gurley, a broker with whom he rarely transacted any business, had become possessed of two hundred shares of Roger Trust just at this time.
Larsen, Skinner and Saintsbury were all in the secret of the impending merger with the Central States Company. There was Shepherd; he hadn’t told Shepherd, but there had been no reason why he should tell Shepherd any more than he would have made a confidante of Leila, who probably had forgotten that she owned the stock. Having acquired two-thirds of the Rogers shares, all that was necessary was to call a meeting of the stockholders and put the thing through in accordance with the formula already carefully prepared by his lawyers.
When Carroll came back he placed a memorandum on Mills’s desk and started to leave the room.
“Just a moment, Carroll”—Mills eyed the paper carefully. “So it was Shep who sold to Gurley—is that right?”
“Yes,” Carroll assented. “Gurley only held it a day before he offered it to me.”
“Shepherd—um—did Shep tell you he wanted to sell?”
“No; he never mentioned it,” Carroll replied, not relishing Mills’s inquiries.