A NERVY VENTURE AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
One day toward the end of March, Dick was taking lunch in a Fulton
Street chop-house when two well-dressed men entered the place and sat
down at the opposite side of the table.
They were talking about some real estate deal they had in
contemplation, and did not appear to regard the boy’s presence as a bar
to their conversation.
“We can get a thirty-day option on the property for one thousand
dollars, pending examination of title,” said the shorter man of the
two, after the waiter had taken their order. “The old man’s bed-rock
price for the entire thirty acres is twelve thousand cash. He wanted
fifteen thousand at first. Allowing for streets, we can get out of it
twelve city lots per acre, or three hundred and sixty lots altogether.
The corner lots will fetch one hundred and twenty-five to one hundred
and fifty dollars each, and the inside ones, say one hundred, according
to location. That means we should realize about forty thousand dollars
in the gross. You have figured out the expense of cutting through
the streets, the cost of having the title guaranteed, probable cost
of printing and newspaper advertising, commissions to agents, and so
forth. The location of the property is good; the Long Island main line
has a station close by, and the main street of Sodom can be extended
through the property. Old man Durwood is clearly anxious to sell, or he
wouldn’t let it go at that figure. It is easily worth sixteen thousand
dollars to us as it stands, and I would give that for it sooner than
let it slip through my hands.”
“It’s a good speculation,” said the tall man, nodding his head.
“Thompson and Davis are in this with us, I believe.”
“Thompson is ready to put up a certified check for his share at any
moment. I will see and settle with Davis this afternoon. To-morrow
morning I will go out to Sodom and get the option and the deed from
Durwood.”
The talk then branched off on the plans of the speculators for
improving the property and putting it in shape for sale at lot prices.
Although Dick apparently paid no attention to what the real estate
men were saying, nevertheless he was an interested listener to their
conversation.
It happened that the Long Island estate to which the lad made weekly
visits was in the neighborhood of the village of Sodom.
He had a speaking acquaintance with Jonas Durwood, the owner of the
thirty acres referred to above, and knew something about the property
in question.
It had been on the market for some time.
Durwood had been offering it at $15,000, one-third cash, balance on a
five-year mortgage.
The four real estate men evidently intended purchasing the property
at the reduced figure for spot cash, with the view of cutting it up
into lots and then disposing of them at a good profit on the whole
investment.
“So,” thought Dick, “they would sooner give sixteen thousand than let
it slip through their fingers. A thirty-day option on it can be had for
a thousand. Well, I’ve got a thousand lying idle. What’s the matter
with my stealing a march on this syndicate of four, getting the option
myself, and then make them come to terms with me. If they should refuse
to deal with me, it might put me in a hole; but I guess Mr. Nesbitt
would see me through, for that piece of ground is well worth fifteen
thousand at any rate.”
Dick thought he saw a fine chance to make $3,000 or $4,000 inside of a
month if he took the thing on the fly.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he muttered as he drew near the
office. “By the great horn spoon, I’ll do it! My bank-book is upstairs.
I’ll draw the money and take it down with me to Sodom this afternoon,
for fortunately this is the day I am due there. When that chap goes
down to-morrow he’ll find that someone else has got ahead of him. Gee!
Won’t he be hopping mad? Well, I guess!”
It was Dick’s rule not to let the grass grow under his feet when he
embarked in an enterprise.
Therefore he hustled to get his money, and left on an early afternoon
train for Sodom.
He hunted up Jonas Durwood right away and made him a
twelve-thousand-dollar cash offer for the thirty acres.
“What? what? You want to buy that ground, eh? Who for? Mr. Nesbitt?”
said Durwood in some surprise.
“I want a thirty-day option and I want you to put it in my name. Here’s
a thousand dollars to bind the bargain. See?”
Jonas Durwood saw the bills, and the sight of them melted all further
opposition he may have thought of advancing with a view of a better
figure.
The preliminaries were settled on the spot.
Dick got the option and the deed to the property, and Durwood got ten
one-hundred-dollar bills.
Both parties to the contract were satisfied.
“Now,” said the boy, after the settlement had been effected, “there was
a man down here negotiating with you for this land. Have you his name
and address?”
“Yes,” replied Durwood. “Do you want it?”
“I’d like to have it.”
Mr. Durwood produced a card and handed it to Dick.
“Now, Mr. Durwood, if this man shows up here to-morrow, or any time
soon, and he asks you who bought the property, just give him my card,
will you?”
“Certainly,” answered the Sodom resident.
Dick then left him and went over to the estate to attend to such
business as awaited him there.
Next afternoon a very much excited individual called at Mr. Nesbitt’s
offices and inquired for Richard Armstrong.
It was the short, stout man who had done most of the talking at the
restaurant.
Dick was out, and the man waited till he returned.
He was vastly surprised to find that the Armstrong he wanted was a boy.
“Did you purchase an option on Mr. Durwood’s property at Sodom
yesterday?” he inquired, in a nervous tone.
“Yes, sir; I did.”
“For whom, may I ask?”
“For myself.”
“What?” exclaimed the visitor, in amazement. “You secured an option on
those thirty acres for yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you expect me to believe such a ridiculous story as that?” demanded
the stout man, sarcastically. “Come, now, tell me who you represent?”
“I have told you. I represent myself. I bought those thirty acres
because I found out I could get them at a low price. They’re worth
sixteen thousand dollars if they’re worth a cent.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the man, impatiently.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Dick, coolly.
“I mean it is sheer nonsense for you to say that property is worth
sixteen thousand dollars.”
“Well, what do you think it is worth?”
“In my opinion, twelve thousand is nearer its value.”
“We won’t argue the matter. I hold a thirty-day option on the property.
Is that all you wished to see me about?”
Dick was thoroughly cool and business-like, and the stout man seemed
puzzled as to what he would say next.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, presently. “I was looking at that piece
of ground myself and had some idea of buying it. If you’d like to turn
your option over to me, I’ll give you five hundred dollars bonus.”
Dick shook his head.
“No. Couldn’t think of it.”
“What will you take for the option?”
“Five thousand dollars cash!”
“Five thousand furies!” yelled the man, looking at the boy as though he
would liked to have eaten him.
“No, sir,” said Dick, with a faint grin. “Not furies, but dollars.”
“Young man, what do you take me for?”
Dick smiled pleasantly, but made no answer.
“I’ll give you just two thousand dollars for that option.”
“I can do better than that,” replied the boy, politely.
“How can you?” asked the stout man, incredulously.
“A syndicate has been formed to buy that property for speculative
purposes.”
“What?” gasped the real estate man, staring hard at Dick.
“That’s right. I don’t mind telling you how I came to buy the land.
My business takes me down to Sodom once a week. I knew the Durwood
property was in the market, and I have a very clear idea of its value.
As soon as I got the tip that speculators were after it, I made up my
mind to scoop the ground myself if I could get it low enough. I made
Mr. Durwood a cash offer, and we came to an agreement. Mr. Nesbitt will
examine the title in a few days, and if everything is all right he will
close the deal as trustee for me. That’s all there is to it.”
“How did you learn about this syndicate and who are the men that
compose it?” asked the stout man, with ill-disguised eagerness.
“You will have to excuse me answering those questions, Mr. Blake,”
replied Dick, looking at the man’s card, which he held in his hand.
“Then you won’t accept an offer of twenty-five hundred for your
option?” said the visitor.
“No, sir. Any time within the thirty-day limit after Mr. Nesbitt has
passed on the title, you or the syndicate or any other person can
purchase that option for an advance of four thousand dollars over what
I paid down.”
“I will consider the matter, Mr. Armstrong. Good day.”
A few days later Dick received an offer in writing from Mr. Blake,
accepting his figure, contingent on Mr. Nesbitt’s assurance that
Jonas Durwood could furnish a clear title and that the same would be
guaranteed by the Lawyer’s Title Guarantee and Trust Company.
Dick closed with him on those terms, and a week before the option
expired the delighted boy received a certified check for $5,000,
and the Blake crowd closed the deal and came into possession of the
property.
It was not only a red-letter day in Dick’s life, but his seventeenth
birthday.