When Fred saw the red stream spurt from the man's neck he sprang back
and exclaimed:
"It was the glass!"
Bob ran out from another room. So did the clerk, and Mr. Allison came
around from behind the cashier's desk. Others who heard the glass rattle
down on the sidewalk ran in to see what had happened.
"The man is bleeding to death!" cried some one. "Send for a doctor!"
"Call an ambulance!" said somebody, and both were summoned.
But ere either could get there the man was dead. The broken glass had
cut a jugular vein and his life ebbed away inside of three minutes. A
policeman ran in when he saw the crowd before the bank.
"How did it happen?" he asked.
"He fell against the glass and it cut his neck," replied the clerk.
"Did you see it?"
"Yes."
"Then I want you to go with me and tell the story to the coroner.
"We'll all do that," said Allison.
"Did you see it, too?"
"Yes."
"Then I want you, too."
"Very well."
The doctor who had been summoned came in and examined the wound.
"The jugular is severed," he said. "No power on earth could have saved
him."
"Who was he?" the officer asked.
Nobody answered him.
"Does no one in this crowd recognize him?"
They gazed at the dead man, but none knew him.
"Who sent for me?" the doctor asked, looking around.
No one answered him.
"Who pays my fee?"
"You ought to know who told you about it," said the officer.
"Somebody called up to my window to come quick. I didn't see him."
"Doctor, I'll pay the bill," said Fred, "as long as it happened in
here."
"Very well. Ten dollars, please," and the doctor held out his hand for
the money.
Fred handed it to him, saying:
"Be kind enough to get out. You're a hog on two legs."
"What!" and the doctor gasped as if for breath.
"Get out of here, you old hog!" repeated Fred.
The doctor struck at him, his face livid with rage. The officer caught
him by the arm, saying:
"If you raise a disturbance here I shall have to arrest you, sir."
"Did you hear him insult me?" cried the doctor.
"Yes, but you can't fight here."
"If he wants to fight, let him fight a man of his size, not a boy," said
a broker in the crowd. "He is a hog, judging from his actions, and I am
ready to back it up!"
"I'll sue you for slander!" hissed the doctor, as he made his way
through the crowd.
"Sue and be hanged to you! You are a coward as well as a hog!" and the
belligerent broker followed him out to the sidewalk.
The doctor got away in the crowd. The ambulance came, and the body was
removed to the police station to await identification and the action of
the coroner. The doors of the bank were closed, and a number of brokers
remained inside to find out how the thing had happened. Mr. Allison
related how it occurred, and produced the certificate, which they all
examined. But not one of them was willing to say it was a forgery. The
old man was the best posted of them all.
"I would have loaned him $20,000 on that," said a well-known broker as
he examined it.
"You would have lost every penny of it, sir," replied Allison.
"Do you wish to wager anything on it?" the broker asked.
"I have no money to put up."
"Make the bet--I'll put up the money," said Bob. "I am willing to bet on
you."
"Very well, I'll wager $10,000 that this is a forgery, that the company
has never issued a 'Third series' of shares."
"Put up the money," said the broker. "I'll give my check. It can't be
certified now, since the bank is closed."
"You won't stop it if you lose, eh?" Bob asked.
"No, not I."
"Very well, Mr. Allison, put up the money in the hands of any one you
know."
The old man put up the money and Broker Dean put up his cheek.
"Now let's go to Doggett & Holmes' office and see what they say about
it. They are the attorneys for the road and ought to know all about it,"
Allison said, and the whole party of about a dozen men went out and down
on Broad street, where they soon climbed up three flights to the law
offices of Doggett & Holmes.
Holmes was in. Doggett had left. He examined the certificate and
pronounced it a forgery, saying:
"No 'Third series' has ever been issued by the company."
"Whoop!" yelled Bob, "I'll bet on my old man every time!"
The crowd roared and Dean was nettled.
"I want to have the statement of the president of the company before I
give up," he said.
"Will the treasurer of the company do?" Holmes asked.
"Yes, of course."
"Well, he is here," and he sent a clerk into another room for a Mr.
Timson, the treasurer of the company.
He came out and very promptly pronounced it a forgery.
"Whoop!" yelled Bob again. "Halsey & Company are bankers and
speculators, and sometimes they bet on a dead sure thing. Say, Fred,
we've got some more fleece to hang up."
The brokers yelled and Dean said to him:
"See here now, boys, none of that. If you get any of my fleece in a deal
you can hang it up on your front door. This is quite a different thing."
"But do you give it up?" Bob asked.
"Oh, yes. You can have the money."
"All right. We can't call it fleece at all. Mr. Allison, one-half is
yours. Shake, old man."
Allison jumped as though he had been shot.
"Do you mean that, Bob?" he asked.
"Of course I do."
"And you--is it all right?" he asked of Fred.
"Of course it is. You saved us $10,000, didn't you?"
"Well, that was my duty. I've been thirty-three years in Wall Street and
never had so much consideration shown me before," and his eyes became
moist and his voice husky.
"I say, boys!" called out another broker, "let's all go and dine
together and have a bottle for each plate. I like these two boys and
think we can learn something from them. Come on, every one of you."
They all laughed, shook hands with Bob, Fred and Allison and went
downstairs and farther down the street to a well-known restaurant. There
they had a royal feast for an hour. Dean became quite merry over his
bottle and admitted that he knew Allison was one of the best posted men
in the street, and was glad that he was to have one-half the amount he
had lost. At that dinner the brokers became acquainted with Halsey &
Company, and found that, though they were boys, they knew a good deal
about taking care of Number One.