which from time to time he produced from a large black-covered folio. It
took me some time to finish this calculation, but at last my task was
ended and I gave the slip to him.
"Sure that's right, Smith?" he asked, looking at the footing.
"Your 18,450 shares of N.O. & G. stock cost you exactly $1,174,815, Mr.
Harding, not including the commissions to your brokers," I said, calmly
as possible.
His big head swung quickly and he gazed at me with an expression of
abject surprise.
"Well I'll be--well--say, Smith, how in thunder did you get the idea
into your head that those figures stood for N.O. & G. stock?" he
demanded, after glancing at the slip to make sure that it contained no
tell-tale initials.
"Because the dates of purchase correspond with the quotations," I
responded, enjoying his amazement and wondering to what it would lead.
"I am only guessing that you bought, but of course it's possible you
sold or went short. Please do not imagine I'm attempting to pry into
your affairs, Mr. Harding," I added.
He sank back into his seat and for several seconds said nothing.
"Do you mind answering a few questions, Smith?" he said.
"That depends," I smiled. "Go ahead and ask them."
"Have you been dealing in N.O. & G.?"
"Yes."
"Buying or selling?"
"Buying."
"Outright or on margin?"
"On margin."
"How many shares have you an option on?"
I hesitated.
"Mr. Harding," I said, "in answering that question I assume that the
information is confidential and that it will not be used to my
disadvantage. Up to now it has been a secret known only to my brokers."
"You will lose nothing by telling me," Mr. Harding said, and I knew that
promise was as good as his note at hand.
"My brokers have contracted for 45,000 shares of N.O. & G.," I said,
handing him a list of my purchases with dates, amounts, and quotations.
He studied it for a while in silence.
"I thought you did nothing but play golf," he said. "Tell me; how did
you happen to go into a deal of this magnitude?"
I gave him the details of the conspiracy as I had discovered them. It is
not safe at this time to disclose them even in this diary. Mr. Harding
listened with growing wonder on his face.
"My boy," he said, when I had ended, "if there is anyone in the country
who should have discovered and taken advantage of the facts you have
just told me, it is myself, but I never dreamed of them until you had
purchased more than 30,000 shares of that stock. These dogs think I'm in
Europe! They were told so. They think they have sold me out, and perhaps
they have. I did not watch it as I should have done."
For a minute the train roared on past suburban stations, under viaducts,
through echoing rows of freight cars, and over clattering switches. We
were nearing the metropolis.
"Do you mind telling me if you are alone in this transaction?" he
suddenly asked.
"I am."
"Do you wish to go in with me in this deal?"
"I do!" I replied without hesitation.
"Good!" he said, offering his hand. "We'll talk no more of this here.
It's not safe. Come with me to my office."
We reached his private office half an hour before the opening of the
Stock Exchange. In five minutes the machinery of his wonderful system
was in operation. Notes were dictated, messengers hurried away with
them, men called, who listened to curt orders and vanished.
An hour passed and he gave orders that no one should be admitted until
further notice.
"N.O. & G. is stationary around 59," he said, offering a cigar. "The
directors meet at noon. They will pass the dividend. They think to shake
out your 45,000 shares and a lot more in small holdings. In all I own
35,000 shares, so that together we control 80,000 out of 200,000. I now
propose to show these honourable gentlemen a trick which will give them
something to think about for several weeks to come. I know a _gentleman_
who owns outright 25,000 shares. He is one of the heads of which you
term "the conspiracy". It is not a conspiracy, Smith; it is business. He
tried to sell me out and has failed as he will learn in a few minutes.
He will then sell out the men who implicitly trust him, as they would
sell him out if they could see a chance to make money out of it. Do not
talk of conspiracies, Smith! These honourable business _gentlemen_ down
here are extremely sensitive, and you should be careful not to hurt
their feelings."
We quickly came to an agreement by which our holdings were pooled. It
was stipulated that he should have entire control of the operations from
that time on, and after settling important details I suggested that I go
to my broker's office and await developments.
"There's nothing you can do here," he said, as I arose. "Yes, there is,
too," he added. "The folks are going to drop in here at about two
o'clock. I'm going to be too busy to bother with them, and I foolishly
promised to take them to the gallery of the Stock Exchange. You'll be
worth more money then than you are now," he said with a grim smile.
"Take them over and show them how a real sheep-killing looks when the
ewes are fat and the knives sharp."
I promised to call for them at two o'clock, and then went to the office
of my brokers.
Carelessly glancing at the quotation opposite the letters N.O. & G., I
saw that it had dropped to 56. The head of the firm approached me and
asked me to step into his private office.
[Illustration: "Business is business"]
"The rumour is strong that the dividend will be passed," he said.
"Which is preparatory to saying that you would like me to put up more
margins, I presume?"
"Business is business, you know, Mr. Smith," he said, softly rubbing his
hands.
"I have, anticipated your caution," I remarked. Mr. Harding had warned
me that an unwarranted demand for margins would be made, but confident
of the integrity of my brokers I had doubted it. "I presume an extra
ten points will satisfy you?"
He seemed surprised but said it would. I gave him a certified check for
$450,000.
"Thank you, Mr. Smith. You will excuse me for requesting this, but
business is business."
"So I am learning," I coldly observed, and this closed our interview. I
was convinced that "the conspirators" had gotten into communication with
my brokers, but of course I could not prove it.
As the noon hour approached, N.O. & G. sagged off to 53 on comparatively
heavy transactions. It stuck there until over the various mechanisms for
sending information came this simple announcement, "The directors of the
N.O. & G. have passed the regular semi-annual dividend."
The card boy of the stock board became busy. N.O. & G. dropped a point
or more between sales, until it struck 47. I had small doubt of the
outcome, but it is not pleasant to sit and watch the figures go up which
hint at a loss of $45,000 every minute or so. I tried to look
unconcerned, but doubt if I succeeded.
I knew that not far away a strong man was at the wheel, but the best of
ships go down. What if his plans had miscarried? I dared not think of
it!
"Two thousand N.O. & G. at 48," called the watcher at the ticker. "Five
hundred at 47-1/2; 1,000 at 47; 2,000, 400, I,500, 3,000, at 47. Looks
as if someone has pegged it at 47!"
The entire market was declining in sympathy with the disturbing news
concerning this standard property. "Twelve hundred N.O. & G. at 47-1/4,"
called the man at the ticker. "Three thousand at 48; 1,500 at 49; 5,000
at 50! Someone's after that non-dividend paying stock!"
Like a man in a dream I watched that stock start on its dizzy climb. In
five minutes it had reached 55, and by leaps and bounds it soared to 70.
My brokers rushed to me with their congratulations. Did I wish to place
any orders? Some strong interest undoubtedly was back of the rise?
I informed them I had purchased all I desired.
I am not indifferent in the matter of money. I am ambitious to possess
it for the prestige it gives and the power it grants, but it is the
simple truth to say that in those triumphant moments and in the
subsequent hours the thought which held possession of me and which made
me superlatively happy was the consciousness that so far as material
assets were concerned I had a right to aspire to the hand of Grace
Harding!
For some time the quotations vibrated nervously about the seventy mark.
I was about to start for Mr. Harding's office when a man with a loud
voice read a bulletin just received.
"_One forty-five p.m._," he began. "_Robert L. Harding authorises the
announcement that in conjunction with John Henry Smith he has purchased
a majority of the stock of the N.O. & G. railroad, and that it will be
operated as a part of the system with which Mr. Harding is identified_."
"Who in thunder is John Henry Smith?" asked a veteran stock gambler.
I hurriedly left the room.
In the inner offices of Mr. Harding's headquarters I found Mrs. and Miss
Harding.
"We have heard the news!" exclaimed Miss Harding. "Isn't it splendid? I
congratulate you, Mr. Smith!"
Mr. Harding appeared at this moment, a broad smile on his face.
"Not so bad, eh Smith!" he said, shaking hands. The fierce light of
battle was in his eyes. "They're headed for the tall timber, but we
still have their range! Did you hear the last quotation?"
"The last figure I saw was seventy-three," I said.
"Seventy-three?" he laughed. "I just bought a thousand shares for
ninety-one. Take the folks over to the visitor's gallery and let them
watch the animals. I'm going to begin to feed them raw meat in about
half an hour."
As we walked toward the Exchange, Mrs. Harding said to me: "I think it's
perfectly wicked the way you men gamble!"
Bless her dear heart, so do I, but what could I say except to utter some
commonplace?
The huge box of marble and gold where this gambling is done already was
seething with maniacs who had reached a stage of delirium pitiful to
those who witness such scenes for the first time. It was as if a
thousand human rats had been hurled into a pit, with heaven and earth
offered as prizes to those who survived.
The swaying forms, the tossing arms, the frantic uplifted faces of aged
men, the football rush of impetuous youths, the shrieks, howlings and
bellowings of the combatants, the tramp of feet on the paper-strewn
floor, the clatter of innumerable instruments, the tinkle of myriads of
bells; and through the opened windows God's pure sunlight illumining
this hell on earth--such was the scene they looked down upon.
I knew the signs which told when Harding threw the first bits of "raw
meat" into this gilded corral. I knew that he long since had cornered
N.O. & G., and that he would whet the appetites of his victims as only
he knew how, but I did not know that it was his day of reckoning for
other "conspirators" equally as grasping as those with whom I had
measured my puny sword.
As the hands of the clock slowly crawled to the hour of three the frenzy
of the mob in the centre of the pit became maddening. I had no way of
knowing from where we stood whether prices were moving up or down, but
it was evident that Harding was "feeding the animals."
Then the gong boomed the signal that the session was ended. The tumult
rose to one resounding crash, hesitated, subsided and died away. The
struggling groups dissolved and partial sanity resumed its sway.
I was ushered into Mr. Harding's private office immediately on our
return. The magnate was in his shirt sleeves. His mouth was set in stern
lines and his dark hair tousled as if he had just emerged from deadly
physical combat. As I entered the room his features relaxed and then he
laughed. It was the roar of the lion who raises his head for a moment
from his stricken quarry.
"We won this foursome, Smith, ten up and eight to play," he said. "Sit
down and I'll tell you how we stand. I put the market up to 175. Could
have put it to a thousand if it had been necessary, but what's the use?
There is a short interest of 60,000 shares. Most of them are in the
outer offices waiting to come in and settle. I'm going to let 'em off
easy, Smith. Those who were extra dirty will settle at 200, and I've
made a sliding scale down to 150, which is about what N.O. & G. is
actually worth as an investment. Outside of your original 45,000 shares
you have profits coming to you on about 20,000 shares which I bought for
you at various figures on the way up. Roughly speaking it will net you
somewhere between a million and a half and two millions, depending on
how merciful we are to your 'conspirators.' How much will it cost you to
take up your 45,000 shares?"
[Illustration: "Ten up and eight to play"]
I consulted the statement of my account with Morse & Davis, my brokers
in these transactions.
"I have paid them $1,525,000, which margined it down to 30," I said.
"In order to take the stock up I must pay them about $1,375,000 more,
making my investment in N.O. & G. a total of $2,900,000."
"Tell you what I'll do, Smith," said Mr. Harding. "If you care to get
out of this deal I'll take that block of 45,000 shares off your hands at
$150 a share. That's $6,750,000," he concluded after making a rapid
calculation.
"Thank you," I said, "but I've decided to hold it as an investment and
go into the railroad business."
"Good for you, Smith!" he heartily exclaimed. "Mark my prediction; N.O.
& G. will go to 200 before the first of the year. You've done fairly
well for a beginner, my boy. Your investment and the contributions of
the wicked 'conspirators' net you between five and six millions. That's
better than sweating over that 'Bronze Gent,' now isn't it?"
The magnitude of my winnings nearly took my breath, and I fear that my
expression and words showed it.
"You'll have to get out of here now, Smith," said Mr. Harding, glancing
at his watch. "Take the folks for a ride or something to entertain them,
and come back here at 5:30. Then we'll all go to dinner somewhere and
take the nine o'clock train for Woodvale."
ENTRY NO. XXI
I AM ENTIRELY SATISFIED
For an hour I have been seated at a table on the veranda of the Woodvale
club house looking over the pages of this diary.
Certainly I am entitled to a new sobriquet. As a youngster I was called
"Socks Smith." In more recent years I have been hailed as "Foxy Old
Smith," and by a few friends as "Old Prog. Smith," but as I review my
record for the past two months it seems to me that I am fairly entitled
to be called "Lucky Smith."
Of least importance, but none the less satisfying has been the wonderful
improvement in my golf game. I am driving as long a ball as any club
member. I have won the club championship and the Harding Trophy. I hold
the low amateur score for the course, and only yesterday came within a
stroke of defeating Wallace. I must admit that the poor chap was off his
game. He is still thinking of Miss Lawrence. It's a shame the way she
led him on, but he is young and will get over it.
It was my privilege to be instrumental in saving Mr. Harding's life from
the mad rush of that bull. I showed a little judgment and nerve,
perhaps, but luck gave me the opportunity.
Every incident preceding, during and after that tornado was in my
favour. Even my mistakes resulted to my advantage. Fate smiled on me
through the awful fury of that tempest.
These fortuitous happenings and incidents are nothing compared with one
consideration which makes me the happiest man in the world. It is not
that I made a lucky venture in stocks and acquired more millions than
all of my ancestors ever possessed. That is something, of course, but I
had enough money for any rational human being before this flood of
wealth poured into my lucky hands.
These are not the things which steep my soul in joy ineffable!
I know that I possess the love of Grace Harding!
She has not told me; it is not necessary that she shall say the words to
confirm the truth which has come to me. I know that she loves me; is not
that enough?
Chilvers passed while I was sitting here and caught me smiling. I was
reading the sixteenth entry in this diary.
"What are you grinning at, Smith?" he demanded.
I did not tell him. I had been reading my soliloquy to the effect that
the knowledge of love is conveyed without verbal expression between
those who love. I had written: "The man who fails to avail himself of
this silent but eloquent language, and who stupidly assaults a woman
with an open avowal of an alleged love deserves to be coldly rejected."
Then I wrote that these voiceless messages to the one you love would be
considered and finally answered, and that there might come a day "when
over the throbbing unseen wire there comes a telepagram sounding the
letters 'Y-E-S,' then proceed with the sweet formality of a verbal
confession and avowal of your love, and you will not be disappointed."
I have received that glorious message! Grace Harding has told me that
she loves me!
The message was transmitted from the depths of her beautiful eyes! It
has been confirmed by the gentle pressure of her hand as it rested on my
arm! It has been echoed in the accents of her sweet voice! I have read
it in the blush which mantles her check as I draw near, and I know it
from a thousand little tokens which my heart understands and which my
feeble words cannot express.
I am
ENTRY NO. XXII
I AM UTTERLY MISERABLE
_On Board "Oceanic," East-bound._
I may as well finish the sentence which ends brokenly in the preceding
entry. "I am _an ass_."
Three weeks have passed since I finished that entry with the most
appropriate words, "I am." They fittingly express the consummate egoism
with which I was then afflicted. I have recovered--partially, at least.
I am--there goes that "I am" again--I am on the "Oceanic" pointed for
London. Unless we sink--and I care little whether we do or not--I should
be in that city inside of forty-eight hours.
In looking over my luggage I found this diary. I gave it to my room
steward and told him to throw it overboard. Then it occurred to me that
it would be my luck that it would be picked up and published as the
mental meanderings of an idiot, so I called him back and took it away
from him.
This steward of mine discovered my mental unbalance the first day out,
but considers me harmless and treats me accordingly.
I have decided to bring this diary up to date, retain possession of it
pending certain developments, and then incinerate it with appropriate
ceremonies. So I will begin at the beginning, which is the ending of the
last entry with its immortal declaration, "I am."
I have forgotten what I intended to write when I started that sentence,
and what it was cuts no figure. I only know that just at that instant
Chilvers, Marshall, and Carter appeared, dragged me from my chair and
insisted that I join them in a foursome. There was no escape, so I got
ready and in a few minutes was with them at the first tee.
On my way there I met Miss Harding, Miss Ross and Miss Dangerfield. I
chatted with them for a moment and went on. I remember--oh, do I not
remember!--that I called Miss Harding aside and reminded her that we
were to take a moonlight spin in my new automobile. She smilingly
replied that she had not forgotten it, and with a look into each
other's eyes which thrilled my very being I turned to join those
golfers.
How can I write this? It is like pouring a burning acid into a wound!
I have forgotten who won the game. I know I played vilely for I was not
thinking of golf. I was counting the minutes which must elapse before I
could be by her side and tell her that I loved her.
I was rehearsing the words I should whisper to her as we paused on the
smooth crest of "Old Baldy." I was picturing the fairy landscape
shimmering in the moonlight, its rays falling on her fair face as I took
her hand in mine. I saw it all as plain as I see this page in front of
me. I felt it vividly as I feel the heaving of this great ship and the
vibrations of its engines.
How could I play a decent game of golf under such circumstances?
On returning to the club house one of the attendants handed me a
telegram which had just been received. I opened it carelessly and read:
Albuquerque, New Mexico.
To JOHN HENRY SMITH, Woodvale:
If you wish to see your Uncle Henry alive come at once.
DR. L.L. CLARK.
I had an hour in which to get ready to catch the last train to the city
and make the proper connections. I called my man and gave him the
necessary instructions.
Then I began a search for Miss Harding. I suddenly resolved to declare
my love that day if the opportunity presented. I was delighted when I
found her alone in the library.
She did not hear me as I softly entered the room. She was seated near a
window, an opened book in her lap but her gaze was not on its print and
it was evident her thoughts were far away.
I gently touched her shoulder, thinking to surprise her. I shall never
forget the changing expressions in her eyes as they met mine.
"I beg pardon, Miss Harding," I began. "I am--"
She rose to her feet, the book falling to the floor. Her pretty head was
erect, her shoulders thrown back, her eyes flashing and her face deadly
pale.
"Do not address me, sir!" she exclaimed, drawing away from me as if I
were some repulsive animal.
I stood transfixed! I knew she was not dissembling. I could not think; I
could not speak! The floor seemed flying beneath my feet, and I must
have reeled.
"Leave me, sir! Leave me, sir, and never speak to me again!"
My voice came back to me.
"But, Miss Harding, there must be some mistake!" I stammered. "I beg of
you--"
"There is no mistake!" she cried with intense bitterness, pushing past
me. "If you were a gentleman you would grant the last request I shall
ever ask of you!"
I stood as in a trance and watched her sweep proudly from out the room.
I fell back into the chair she had vacated. I do not know how long I
remained there or what tumultuous thoughts crashed against me like
breakers storm-lashed on a rock-girt shore; I only know that my man
found me there and told me that my train was due in fifteen minutes.
I went to my room and changed my golf for a travelling suit. The next I
remember is that I was on the train rushing toward the city.
[Illustration: "She rose to her feet"]
No sleep came to my eyes that long and awful night as the miles spun out
which separated me from the one I loved so madly. Yes, I loved her then,
and I love her now!
Like a caged and wounded animal I paced the narrow confines of my
stateroom. Ten thousand times I asked for the disclosing of this pitiful
mystery, and ten thousand times a mocking laugh came back in the roar
and shriekings of the train. The car wheels chuckled in rhythm, the
airbrakes hissed in derision and the engine whistle hooted in scorn.
It was daybreak when I threw myself on the couch and closed my eyes. I
think I slept for an hour or so. To my surprise and disgust I found
when I awoke that I was hungry. I had thought I should never care to
eat again.
It was necessary to wait several hours when a thousand miles of my
journey had been made, and I employed them in writing a letter to her.
It was a long letter, and I poured my heart into it. I told her I loved
her, and that I was innocent of offense toward her by thought, word or
deed.
I could think of only one thing over which she might have taken offense,
and this was so absurd that I regretted later to have dignified it by
mentioning and apologising for it.
I recalled that I had touched her on the shoulder--the left shoulder. It
was an ill-bred and thoughtless act, but as I knew, when I had pondered
the matter more calmly, Miss Harding has too much sense and poise to
exhibit such anger at what at its worst was merely a boorish
indiscretion. It was the only straw on which I could float an apology
for a concrete act, but I thought later on I did not help my case by
mentioning it.
Imploring her to enlighten me as to my offending, and assuring her of my
undying love and abject misery I closed an appeal which exhausted the
persuasion, eloquence and rhetoric at my command.
I may as well say now as at any other time that I received no answer to
it.
Uncle Henry died on the fourth day after my arrival. Before he passed
away he expressed a wish that he be buried in the little Eastern town
where he was born. He had forgiven me for turning the old farm into golf
links, and aside from a few small bequests, I was his heir. Thus by the
death of this good man I come into possession of money, estates, stocks
and other property for which I have no use.
Of what special use is property to me? It does not help secure the one
thing on earth I desire. I would rather--oh, what's the use of writing
that?
As soon as my uncle was put under ground, I hastened to Woodvale. I
arrived there nineteen days after my hurried departure. It seemed years,
and I was surprised when I searched in vain for gray hairs in my head.