Completely at a loss, I followed him into his private office. "You recall commissioning us—when we were located in Pomona—to purchase some shares of Consolidated Pemmican and Allied Concentrates for your account?"
To tell the truth, while I had not forgotten the event, I had been sufficiently ashamed of my rashness to have pushed all recollection of the transaction to the back of my mind. But I nodded confirmingly.
"No doubt you would be willing to sell at a handsome profit?"
Aha, I thought, the rise of the market has sent Consolidated Pemmican up for once beyond its usual 1/8. I am probably a rich man and this fellow wants to cheat me of the fruits of my foresight. "You bought the stock outright?"
"Of course, Mr Weener," he affirmed in a hurt tone.
"Good. Then I will take immediate delivery."
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his lip and forehead with evident inefficiency for the perspiration either remained or started afresh. "Mr Weener," he said, "I am authorized to offer you six times—six times," he echoed impressively, "the amount of your original investment. This is an amazing return."
If it was worth it to him, it was worth it to me. "I will take immediate delivery," I repeated firmly.
"And no brokerage fees involved," he added, as one making an unbelievable concession.
I shook my head.