HOW JACK ACQUIRED INSIDE INFORMATION.
One morning Jack was sent to deliver a package of important papers at
the office of a well-known millionaire capitalist.
Entering the reception-room, he found Hartz and another prominent
broker standing by one of the windows, talking in a low tone together.
They did not notice him right away, and though the boy made no effort
to listen to their conversation, of which he couldn’t hear much any
way, a bit of valuable information came to him quite unexpectedly that
set him thinking very hard as he marched inside to deliver his package
to the capitalist in the private office.
He had heard Hartz and the other broker talking about a certain stock
which they were going to corner.
They had called on the millionaire, expecting to interest him in the
scheme with others whose names were written down on a list referred to
by Hartz during his talk.
Now, many boys wouldn’t have given the matter a second thought, or if
they had, wouldn’t have had the gumption to consider how they might
avail themselves of the knowledge that every broker in the district
would have given his head, so to speak, to have an inkling of.
But Jack Hazard was smarter than a steel trap.
Corners and such things were familiar terms to him.
He hadn’t burnt his fingers in the market as yet.
He was a deal too cautious for that.
But all the same, the fever had been working in his blood, and there
was no telling when it would break out.
He had his own idea about investing in stocks, and had figured the
thing out until his brain sometimes got weary over the work.
Practically he was standing on the brink, like a timid bather on the
seashore, tempted by the sight of the water, but hesitating to make the
first plunge.
And now, like a sudden inspiration, he believed he saw his way to a
good thing.
And it was a good thing, if he only worked it right.
And he thought he knew how to do it.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Millie Price, noticing the
preoccupied air of the boy after he returned from the capitalist’s
office.
“I was thinking how I could make a haul,” said Jack, with a grin of
anticipation.
“Not in stocks, I hope,” said Millie, with some concern, for she had
little faith in Wall Street deals.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out, Millie,” said Jack,
tantalizingly.
“Aren’t you just horrid!” she retorted, with a smile that showed the
young messenger was a prime favorite of hers.
“I hope not. That’s what you said about that dude that was in here
yesterday. I hope you aren’t comparing me with him.”
“The idea! Just as if I would!” she said, tossing her head. “Oh, by
the way; who do you suppose was in here inquiring for you while you
were out?”
“Couldn’t guess, Millie, unless it was the Mayor, who is a particular
friend of mine,” said Jack, with a grin.
“What a ridiculous boy you are! It was Mr. Seymour Atherton.”
“No; is that a fact?” said the boy, with evident interest. “I should
like to have seen him.”
“And he had your little mash with him, too,” said Millie, with a
mischievous smile.
“What’s that? What are you getting off?”
“Don’t you really know who I mean?”
“Of course I don’t. I haven’t any mash unless it’s yourself,” grinned
Jack.
“Haven’t you got a cheek!” laughed the stenographer, blushing. “Well,
then, I’ll tell you who it was. It was Fanny Bruce, and she looked just
too cute for anything.”
“I’d liked to have seen her, too,” said Jack.
“She’s the loveliest little girl, I think, I ever saw,” said Millie,
enthusiastically.
“Hello!” exclaimed Ed Potter, walking in. “What are you two chinning
about? Why don’t you get busy? What am I paying you for?”
“Hello, Ed! What brought you around?”
“My feet. Did you think it was an automobile?”
“Isn’t he funny?” said Millie.
“You must excuse him, Millie; he isn’t responsible at all times.”
“I s’pose you think that’s amusing,” growled Ed.
“Say, Ed, I want to see you a moment,” said Jack, walking over to a
window.
“Well, look at me; I’m on exhibition for the time being,” snickered
Potter.
“Oh, rats! Come over here. I want to talk to you. Got any money you
want to invest?” he asked as Ed approached.
“Sure--seven cents.”
“Stop your fooling. Got ten dollars? If you have, I’ll put you on to a
sure thing.”
“What is it?”
“Buy a couple of shares of L. S. on a ten-per-cent margin. Last
quotation thirty-six.”
“Got a tip?”
“That’s what I have. I’m going down to the Seaman’s to-morrow to draw
my pile. I’ve enough to collar twenty-five shares at that margin.”
“Well, I’ll think about it.”
Next morning L. S. opened at the same figure, and as soon as he got
the chance Jack hied himself to the savings bank, drew his money, and,
dropping in on Oliver Bird, surprised that gentleman by asking him to
buy 25 shares of L. S. for him.
“You ought to know your business, Jack; but it seems to me you’re doing
a foolish thing,” said the broker, warningly.
“That’s where you and I differ at present. Back me for twenty-five
shares more, and I’ll let you in on the ground floor.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Bird, curiously.
“Will you stand for the twenty-five if I tell you?”
“Certainly, if you’re determined to make the plunge; but remember, I
strongly advise you against it. I owe you a good turn, and I’ll back
you for fifty, so take your money away.”
“That isn’t business, Mr. Bird. I won’t accept any favors in this deal.
I come to you same as I would to any broker. I’ll sell you a share in
my tip for a ten-per-cent margin on twenty-five shares of L. S. And if
you consider the tip worth it, I want you to deal with me same as you
would with anyone else.”
“Well, what’s your tip, Jack?” asked the broker, smiling doubtfully.
“Hartz and Bradshaw are getting up a corner to boost L. S.”
“How do you know that?” asked Bird, sharply.
Jack told him what he had overheard the two men say at the capitalist’s
office the day before.
Mr. Bird considered a moment.
“I don’t mind admitting that your information is valuable, and I’m
going to look into it. If I find from indications that are bound to
show themselves in a day or two that a pool has apparently been formed,
I’ll stake you for one hundred shares; the tip is worth that easily.”
“All right! Much obliged,” said the boy, joyfully. “That’s business,
and my hundred dollars will give me twenty-five shares more. But you
must let me use my own judgment about selling out.”
“You’d better let me attend to that, Jack.”
“Thanks; but I’ve got my own idea. I’d like to feel independent in the
matter. I’ve been studying the market for some time, and if you can
shear me of the little wool I’ve got, you’re welcome to do so.”
“I shouldn’t want to do that, Jack,” laughed the broker.
“And I don’t propose to give you the chance to do it,” grinned the boy.
“You’re a case, young man. Drop in and see me in a day or two.”
“All right, sir.” And Jack took his leave, feeling that at last he was
getting to be of some importance in the Street.