“What can I do for you, Gray,” said he.
“I would like to take your time for not more than five minutes,” said Gray.
“I am pretty busy,” said the gentleman, “but I will try and oblige you,” and he led the way to an inner office.
The broker’s eyes distended with astonishment as Gray rapidly told how he had made such use of his opportunities as porter and messenger as to accumulate, by speculation, a large sum of money, and that he desired now to employ their firm in an operation which, for reasons of his own, he did not care to intrust to his regular broker.
The gentleman smilingly agreed to accept Mr. Gray’s business, and opened his eyes still wider when Gray took from his pockets large packages containing bonds and securities to the amount of half a million dollars, and, depositing them as collateral, directed the broker to sell all the Erie for which he could find buyers at forty and over, and to buy it whenever it went below thirty-three.
That day Erie mounted, under the pressure of Vanderbilt’s purchases, and the flurry created thereby, to $43, at which figure an immense quantity changed hands. Then it fell rapidly, point by point, back to $37, and, under the influence of a temporary panic, went down to $32, at which figure it rallied and mounted to $35, where it stood at the close of the day.
Mr. Gray’s regular broker reported to him purchases of five thousand shares Erie at prices ranging from $37 to $42, and averaging about $39. He regretted that Mr. Gray had not authorized a sale at $43.25, which was the highest point reached, and at closing figures Mr. Gray must lose about $20,000.
And Mr. Gray’s new brokers reported to him sales of eighty thousand shares of Erie, at an average of $41.50, which had been repurchased at an average of $34.50, with a profit to Mr. Gray of $540,000, which they held, subject to his check.
And when the returns were all in at the office of the old commodore, and that white-whiskered, choleric, kind-hearted, and courageous old bull found that he owned more Erie than ever, at higher prices than those for which he had sold a small part of his holdings, and that the rattan which he had prepared for Gray had fallen upon his own shoulders, he stormed for a while and clothed himself with cursing as with a garment, and then he cooled off and laughed. Then he sent a note, this time not to John Gray’s employer, but to John Gray himself, which read as follows: “Young fellow, you are a genius. Come and dine with me at six o’clock to-day, at Delmonico’s. C. V.”
The friendship cemented at that dinner, between the great capitalist and the ex-messenger—for Gray returned no more to his duties as a porter—continued until the day of the commodore’s death.