“It happens to be my way of doing business on this occasion. I propose to sell when the shares are above a pound, and you shall have a check directly the deal is through. Good-morning.”
As soon as Weiss and his friends had gone, Michael Foster entered carrying in his hand a slip of paper.
“Amantis have risen to twelve shillings, sir,” he announced.
“Let me know when they reach a pound. Are there any more appointments this morning?”
“No. But Mr. George Braithwaite wishes to see you.”
“Is he here now?”
“Yes, sir. Shall I send him in?”
John Gaunt nodded his head and dipped his hand into the box from which he took a big cigar. The end was cut neatly and the match applied with great care.
“Well, Braithwaite, what can I do for you?” he asked sharply.
There was a shamefaced expression on the face of the newcomer that gave him almost a shifty look, and his clothes showed many signs of wear.