As Jerry nervously watched the door for Eaton’s appearance, Louis M. Eichberg, of Corbin & Eichberg, entered and asked for Copeland. The bookkeepers exchanged glances again and bent over their ledgers with renewed zeal. The door of the private office closed upon Eichberg. It snapped shut sharply—ominously, Jerry thought.
CHAPTER XXI
A SOLVENT HOUSE
“I’ve bought in your stock,” Eichberg was saying to Copeland. “You put up fourteen hundred and eighty-five shares with the Western National and I’ve bought ’em in at private sale under your collateral agreement. As I understand it there are fifteen shares held by employees to qualify as directors. I guess there won’t be any trouble about them, and we’ll let ’em stand for the present.”
“Those men paid for their stock and you have no right to touch it,” said Copeland. “The stock in this company has an actual value of two hundred dollars a share—”
“Rubbish! Your capital’s shrunk till you can’t see it any more.”
“Don’t you believe it! The house was never as sound as it is to-day. I hope you don’t think I’m going to stand by and let the Western sell me out on a small loan in this high-handed fashion! It’s a frame-up, a conspiracy to clean me out. I’ve still got a majority of the stock, and I’ll give you a run for your money before you get through with me!”
“Keep your temper, Copeland! I don’t like doing this, but it’s better for me to have the business than to let it peter out, the way it’s doing. I’ll even say that after we consolidate I’ll be glad to make a place for you in the house.”
“Oh, you needn’t trouble!” returned Copeland hotly. “You’re not going to get rid of me so easy!”
“All right! Just how much stock do you think you’ve got?” asked Eichberg with a faint ironic smile.
“I’ve got fifteen hundred shares; the bank understood that when I refused their demand for a majority,” Copeland replied, frowning over the stock-ledger.