For a week Wingrave pursued the same tactics, and at the end of that time he had made twenty thousand dollars. The brokers, however, now understood, or thought they understood, the situation. No one bought for the rise; they were all sellers. Wingrave at once changed his tactics. He bought five thousand shares in one block, and sold none. Even then, the market was only mildly amused. In a fortnight he was the nominal owner of sixteen thousand shares in a company of which only ten thousand actually existed. Then he sat still, and the panic began. The shares in a company which everyone believed to be worthless stood at thirty dollars, and not a share was offered.
A small pandemonium reigned in Wingrave's sitting room. The telephone rang all the time; the place was besieged with brokers. Then Wingrave showed his hand.
He had bought these shares to hold; he did not intend to sell one. As to the six thousand owed to him beyond the number issued, he was prepared to consider offers. One broker left him a check for twenty thousand dollars, another for nearly forty thousand. Wingrave had no pity. He had gambled and won. He would accept nothing less than par price. The air in his sitting room grew thick with curses and tobacco smoke.
Aynesworth began by hating the whole business, but insensibly the fascination of it crept over him. He grew used to hearing the various forms of protest, of argument and abuse, which one and all left Wingrave so unmoved. Sphinx-like he lounged in his chair, and listened to all. He never condescended to justify his position, he never met argument by argument. He had the air of being thoroughly bored by the whole proceedings. But he exacted always his pound of flesh.
On the third afternoon, Aynesworth met on the stairs a young broker, whom he had come across once or twice during his earlier dealings in the shares. They had had lunch together, and Aynesworth had taken a fancy to the boy--he was little more--fresh from Harvard and full of enthusiasm. He scarcely recognized him for a moment. The fresh color had gone from his cheeks, his eyes were set in a fixed, wild stare; he seemed suddenly aged. Aynesworth stopped him.
"Hullo, Nesbitt!" he exclaimed. "What's wrong?"The young man would have passed on with a muttered greeting, but Aynesworth turned round with him, and led the way into one of the smaller smoking rooms.
He called for drinks and repeated his question.
"Your governor has me six hundred Hardwells short," Nesbitt answered curtly.
"Six hundred!" What does it mean?" Aynesworth asked.
"Sixty thousand dollars, or thereabouts," the young man answered despairingly.
"His brokers won't listen to me, and your governor--well, I've just been to see him. I won't call him names! And we thought that some fool of an Englishman was burning his fingers with those shares. I'm not the only one caught, but the others can stand it. I can't, worse luck!""I'm beastly sorry," Aynesworth said truthfully. "I wish I could help you."Nesbitt raised his head. A sudden light flashed in his eyes; he spoke quickly, almost feverishly.
"Say, Aynesworth," he exclaimed, "do you think you could do anything with your governor for me? You see--it's ruin if I have to pay up. I wouldn't mind--for myself, but I was married four months ago, and I can't bear the thought of going home--and telling her. All the money we have between us is in my business, and we've got no rich friends or anything of that sort. I don't know what I'll do if I have to be hammered. I've been so careful, too! I didn't want to take this on, but it seemed such a soft thing! If I could get off with twenty thousand, I'd keep my head up. I hate to talk like this. I'd go down like a man if I were alone, but--but--oh! Confound it all--!" he exclaimed with an ominous break in his tone.
Aynesworth laid his hand upon the boy's arm.
"Look here," he said, "I'll try what I can do with Mr. Wingrave. Wait here!"Aynesworth found his employer alone with his broker, who was just hastening off to keep an appointment. He plunged at once into his appeal.
"Mr. Wingrave," he said, "you have just had a young broker named Nesbitt on."Wingrave glanced at a paper by his side.
"Yes," he said. "Six hundred short! I wish they wouldn't come to me.""I've been talking to him downstairs," Aynesworth said. "This will break him.""Then I ought not to have done business with him at all," Wingrave said coolly. "If he cannot find sixty thousand dollars, he has no right to be in Wall street. I daresay he'll pay, though! They all plead poverty--curs!""I think Nesbitt's case is a little different from the others," Aynesworth continued. "He is quite young, little more than a boy, and he has only just started in business. To be hammered would be absolute ruin for him. He seems such a decent young fellow, and he's only just married. He's in an awful state downstairs. I wish you'd have another talk with him. I think you'd feel inclined to let him down easy."Wingrave smiled coldly.
"My dear Aynesworth," he said, "you astonish me. I am not interested in this young man's future or in his matrimonial arrangements. He has gambled with me and lost. I presume that he would have taken my money if I had been the fool they all thought me. As it is, I mean to have his--down to the last cent!""He isn't like the others," Aynesworth protested doggedly. "He's only a boy--and it seems such jolly hard luck, doesn't it, only four months married!
New York hasn't much pity for paupers. He looks mad enough to blow his brains out. Have him up, sir, and see if you can't compromise!""Fetch him," Wingrave said curtly.
Aynesworth hurried downstairs. The boy was walking restlessly up and down the room. The look he turned upon Aynesworth was almost pitiful.
"He'll see you again," Aynesworth said hurriedly. "Come along."The boy wrung his hand.
"You're a brick!" he declared.
