“Well, think of it now.”
But Montague shook his head. “I would not do that,” he said.
Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “All right,” he said; “tell him you don’t care to give your name. They’re a little shady—they’ll take your money.”
“Suppose they won’t?” asked the other.
“Then wait outside for me, and I’ll take you somewhere else.”
“What shall I buy?”
“Ten thousand shares of Transcontinental Common at the opening price; and tell them to buy on the scale up, and to raise the stop; also to take your orders to sell over the ‘phone. Then wait there until I come for you.”
Montague set his teeth together and obeyed orders. Inside the door marked Hammond and Streeter a pleasant-faced young man advanced to meet him, and led him to a grey-haired and affable gentleman, Mr. Streeter. And Montague introduced himself as a stranger in town, from the South, and wishing to buy some stock. Mr. Streeter led him into an inner office and seated himself at a desk and drew some papers in front of him. “Your name, please?” he asked.
“I don’t care to give my name,” replied the other. And Mr. Streeter put down his pen.
“Not give your name?” he said.