“You’re buying it, aren’t you?”
“Who said so?” demanded the broker, more aggressively than before.
“Nobody that I know of. It just struck me that you were—that’s all,” said the boy, lightly.
“You must have a reason for mentioning it,” said Hartz, gripping him tightly by the arm.
“You told me that if I had twenty-five or fifty dollars to spare, to buy some—on margin, of course.”
“Oh,” said Hartz, letting go of his arm.
“So I went the limit of my little pile,” grinned Jack.
“Then you made a haul?”
“I haven’t sold it yet.”
“You’ve a good nerve,” said Hartz.