“No. The financiers have held their annual meeting, appointed a president, board of directors, and all that, and this board is securely in office for a year. As soon as my father and his friends are wiped out the syndicate will quietly buy back the stock at a much lower price than that at which they sold it, and even in crushing my father they will have made a pot of money for themselves.”
“Killing two birds with one stone, eh? Isn’t there such a thing as gratitude in the City at all?”
“I fear, my lord, there isn’t very much of it.”
“What amount of money do you need to protect your father’s stock?”
“I think five thousand pounds would do.”
“I don’t pretend to know much about business, Mr. Mackeller, but it seems to me that would merely be the thin end of the wedge. Suppose they keep on, and lower the price of stock still further? Should not I need to put a second five thousand pounds into your hands to protect the first?”
“That is true, Lord Stranleigh, but I don’t see how the shares can go much lower than they are. They closed yesterday at two and nine per one-pound share. But in any case the bank will stand by my father if it can. The manager believes in him, although this official, of course, must look after his own employers, but the very fact that my father can put in five thousand pounds this morning will do much to maintain his credit with the manager, and within a very few days we will have time to turn round. I have already seen one or two financiers, and told them what the property is, but they are city-wise, and shake their heads at what they regard as an attempt to unload upon them. So I went to Mr. Hazel, and asked him for an introduction to some one who was rich, and who knew nothing of the ways of the city.”
For the first time during the interview, his lordship leaned back and laughed a little.
“You are playing on my ignorance, then?”
“No, I thought perhaps I could get you to believe me.”