I looked at Kennedy in despair. He was not even perturbed. It was for
just this moment that he had hurried to New York and had worked so
intensely.
Over the telephone that I was holding, Dexter himself politely informed
us that he had reached a point where orders from Mr. Maddox to be
filled must have some more binding force than word of mouth over the
telephone.
“Tell him to wait just a moment,” directed Kennedy, turning to the
other broker who had come to us. “Will you, sir, tell Mr. Merrill to
step down to the office of Mr. Dexter? I shall be there in a moment
myself. Walter,” he added, calmly, “ring Dexter off. Get Shelby Maddox
and tell him to use the new wire connections.”
I did as I was told. Even over the telephone I could feel that the
strain was telling on Shelby’s shattered strength. His voice was shaky
as he inquired thickly for news. I shouted something encouraging back,
and urged him to get on the other wire, at which, at our end, Kennedy
was already impatiently waiting.
A moment later I heard Kennedy and Shelby exchange a few words. Shelby
was evidently much alarmed over the sudden turn of events.
As I waited, I saw Kennedy jam the receiver down on the little metal
base. The three prongs, reaching upward, engaged the receiver tightly,
fitting closely about it. Then he took the small disk receiver from its
hook and placed it to his ear instead of the regular one.
I wondered what it all meant. Craig’s face showed that, whatever it
was, it was most important.
“Yes,” I heard him call back, “give whatever orders you want now to
me. I will see that they are delivered. Pay no attention to the other
telephone. Let it ring――until I tell you. Go ahead.”
Evidently Shelby was giving orders for stock up to the limit of his
resources that were available.
For a moment there evidently came a pause in what was being said over
the telephone at the Westport end, and Kennedy gazed impatiently about
the room.
“What good will that do?” I objected, seeing that Kennedy was not
occupied. “Don’t you suppose they’ll hear what is said over this line,
too? We know they’ve cut in on the two trunk lines at the Harbor House,
and there is every reason to suppose that some one taps the brokers’
wires here――unless the brokers are crooks, too. They’ll know what
Shelby is going to do.”
Kennedy shook his head. “No,” he replied, calmly, “no outsider knows a
thing about this. You see, I’m not using any ordinary means to prepare
against the expert who has brought this situation about. The messages
that I am receiving are coming over what we call the ‘phantom circuit.’”
“‘The phantom circuit?’” I repeated, mystified.
“Yes. It seems fantastic at first, I suppose,” he pursued, “but, after
all, it is in accordance with the laws of electricity. They know
nothing and they cannot cut us off or interfere. You see, I am taking
advantage of the fact that additional telephones or so-called phantom
lines can be superposed on existing physical lines. It is possible to
obtain a third circuit from two similar metallic circuits by using for
each side of this third circuit the two wires of each of the other
circuits in multiple. All three circuits are independent, too.”
He was growing more and more impatient. Apparently there was some delay
at the other end.
“The third telephone current,” he went on, hurriedly, covering up his
nervousness by talking about his machine, “enters the wires of the
first circuit, as it were, and returns along the wires of the second
circuit. There are several ways of doing it. One is to use retardation
or choke-coils, bridged across the two metallic circuits at both
ends, with taps taken from the middle points of each. But the better
method, I think, is the one you have seen me install. I have introduced
repeating coils into the circuits at both ends. Technically, the third
circuit is then taken off from the mid-points of the secondaries
or line windings of these repeating coils. I don’t know what’s the
matter,” he added, calling vainly for Shelby Maddox. “Oh, all right.
Yes, I’ll wait. But hurry, please.”
I could appreciate Kennedy’s eagerness, for below on the street the
tumult was rising.
“It’s working all right,” he reassured. “I suppose you know that the
current on a long-distance line is alternating in character, and it
passes readily through a repeating coil. The only effect it has on
the transmission is slightly reducing the volume. The current passes
into the repeating coil, then divides and passes through the two line
wires. At the other end, the halves balance, so to speak. Thus currents
passing over a phantom circuit don’t set up currents in the terminal
apparatus of the side circuits. Consequently, a conversation carried
on over the phantom circuit will not be heard on either side circuit,
nor does a conversation on one side circuit affect the phantom. You get
three messages at once on two sets of wires. We can all talk at once
without interfering with one another.”
At any other time I should have been more than interested, but just now
the delay was galling. “What’s the trouble?” I inquired.
Kennedy shook his head. “Shelby is talking to Winifred about something.
I can hear only a word now and then. But he said it was important
and asked me to hold the wire. Evidently she wants to do something
he doesn’t want her to do. Yes――hello――yes, this is Kennedy. Say,
you’ll have to―― Oh, good morning, Miss Walcott. Yes, fine. What?
Why――certainly――if he says so, you may. That’s right. Go right ahead. I
am attending to everything at this end now.”
A moment later when Craig restored the telephone to its normal
condition he looked at me with a smile.
“Winifred Walcott is a trump!” he exclaimed, jumping up.
Just then our other telephone rang, and I answered it. “I’m down here
in Mr. Dexter’s office,” called a voice which I took to be that of
the other broker. “We have been talking the situation over. Of course,
if Mr. Maddox were here himself, you know,” he went on apologetically,
“it might be different. We could have him sign his name to orders,
but――really――well, you understand, under the circumstances――we feel,
both Mr. Dexter and myself, that we have gone about far enough.
It’s not that we question Mr. Maddox’s intentions in any way, you
understand, but――perhaps if he were on the ground, he might protect us
from loss, which he may not be able to do over the telephone. We’re
sorry, but――”
“Tell them I’ll be right down,” interjected Kennedy, sensing from my
look the tenor of what was being said.
I interrupted the broker at the first opportunity, then turned to
Kennedy. He had pulled from a compartment of the metal base a little
wax cylinder and dropped it into his pocket carefully.
“Come on,” he cried, dashing for the door and taking the stairs, not
even waiting for the elevator to come up.
A moment later we burst into the board room of the broker. Customers
were standing about in a high state of excitement, while the boys at
the board scurried about, replacing the figures on little bits of
green cardboard which fitted under the abbreviated names of the active
stocks listed on the board at one end of the room. Others were gathered
about the ticker, reading the words that the printed tape was pushing
forth. All seemed talking at once.
Kennedy did not pause, however, but walked unceremoniously into the
private office of Dexter. There already were several men representing
the two brokerage houses. Evidently they had been having a hasty
conference on what they should do in view of the situation in Maddox
Munitions.
I felt a sort of frigidity in the air as we entered. It was not that
anything was either said or done, but I have felt the same thing
several times when as a reporter it was my duty to be present at some
event that marked the freezing out of some person financially.
“Maddox Munitions,” began Dexter, clearing his throat with dignity,
“seems to have occasioned somewhat of a flurry on the market to-day in
which it is the chief sufferer itself. Our latest quotation shows that
it has declined steadily――two points, for instance since the quotation
before, and twenty-five under the opening of the market. I think you
will readily appreciate, Mr. Kennedy, our position in the matter.”
Before Kennedy could reply, however, another took up the conversation.
“Yes,” he remarked, “we have been observing the trend of events for the
last few days. Of course, we can readily appreciate the feeling of Mr.
Maddox in the matter, and, indeed, I must say that at the beginning I
thought that all that was necessary was a good strong show of buying
and that the run would end. Now, however, it begins to look as though
there were other factors entering in. You know the newspapers have
given a great deal of unpleasant notoriety to the Maddox family and
Maddox Munitions. Perhaps the general public does not like it. At least
it begins to seem as though even Mr. Shelby Maddox might not have the
resources to stem the tide.”
“This is Mr. Merrill, of Merrill & Moore, I believe?” asked Craig,
quietly, reminding them that in their suave haste they had forgotten to
introduce him.
“Yes,” returned Merrill, flushing a bit, for he was a great stickler
for punctilious etiquette, and his failure had betrayed the anxiety he
sought to conceal.
It was a ticklish situation and the brokers, always conservative, were
making it worse. Nor could one blame them. The case for the stock
looked at its darkest, verging rapidly on panic.
Kennedy knew it all just as well as they did. But he kept his coolness
admirably and never betrayed that he was doing a thing more than to
drive a bargain, whereas another might have given them an impression of
merely stalling for time.
As the downward trend continued, I saw that Craig was indeed
calculating how far he would let it go, as though one were letting
himself down a hill and testing just how little he needed to apply the
brakes not to have the car run away from him.
It seemed to nettle the brokers. They wanted to close the whole matter
up brusquely. Yet Kennedy’s commanding personality checked them. I felt
sure that they would even have ridden rough-shod over Shelby. Kennedy
was another matter.
Dexter rose decisively. “This must stop,” he frowned.
“I have orders from Mr. Maddox to buy shares――well, I shall not say
what it totals, but the first order is for ten thousand,” cut in
Kennedy, quietly.
There was a moment of silence during which the brokers looked at each
other, waiting for one to take the initiative.
“That is just the point,” began Merrill, finally. “You see, we have
been buying steadily for Mr. Maddox. If he had authorized us by
letter――or if he had handed us a check, certified――”
“But he could not well have foreseen this raid this morning,”
temporized Kennedy.
“True, no doubt. But it does not protect us. For example, where is your
authority, something, anything, that may be binding on him for this new
order of ten thousand shares?”
There was an air of triumph about the way he said the words. It was
evidently intended to be a poser, to leave Kennedy floored and flat.
“Authority?” repeated Craig, quietly, looking about. “I wonder whether
you have one of those dictating machines, a dictaphone, in the office?
Perhaps some one in the building has one.”
“We have one,” returned Dexter, still coldly. “I do not see how
anything you might dictate to it and which a stenographer might
transcribe would have any bearing on the question.”
“It would not,” agreed Kennedy, blithely. “That was not what I intended
to do. There is another use I wished to put it to. Ah――I see. May I use
this transcribing apparatus? Or better yet, would you gentlemen be so
kind as to listen to what I have here?”
He deliberately drew from his pocket the cylinder I had seen him detach
from the instrument up-stairs and slid it on in the proper place in
the new machine.
As it began to revolve I studied the faces about me, intent on
listening to what would be said.
“Is that good enough?” queried Kennedy. “It is a record on an
instrument devised for just this purpose with you brokers who wish to
hold your customers to an agreement over the telephone.”
The needle of the machine sputtered a bit as Craig added, “It is the
telescribe――a recent invention of Edison which records on a specially
prepared phonograph cylinder all that is said――both ways――over a
telephone wire. As nearly as I can make out some one――unknown――has been
playing animated telescribe in this case. Let us see now whether your
utmost demands for safety and security cannot be satisfied in this
modern way.”
Not a word was said. The novelty of the turn of events seemed to leave
them no objection.
In Shelby’s own voice came, clear and distinct, the order to buy ten
thousand shares of Maddox Munitions. Then Kennedy stopped the machine.
“Let us see how that works before we go any further,” he said,
significantly. “His buying orders seemed forestalled by selling orders
when they were given over the regular telephone. Before the next is
given perhaps we may find we have stopped part of the leak.”
Kennedy’s calm assurance seemed to have completely changed their
attitude. They were not convinced, but at least silent.
Out on the Curb we could hear the shouting as brokers with stock to
sell crowded about the man with the order to buy.
Whoever was back of it, it was a well-planned raid. The order for ten
thousand scarcely stemmed the flood. Quickly Kennedy let the little
cylinder revolve. Another order was placed, and another.
I could not help noticing, however, that each succeeding order was
smaller than the rest and it was hard to escape the implication that
Shelby was really reaching the limit of his available resources.
Anxiously I listened to the turmoil on the Curb. Now it would abate,
only to start up again. I glanced at Craig. What would he do?
Just then word was passed up that another block of stock had suddenly
been hurled on the market. The brokers looked skeptically at Kennedy.
Would Shelby be able to meet this final assault?
Craig released the revolving cylinder again. I gasped as I listened,
remembering the pause over the wire up-stairs, the apparent reluctance
of Shelby over something, and Craig’s remark that followed.
Winifred Walcott was placing orders――two of them――one to Dexter, the
other to Merrill & Moore. They were large orders, too, a great deal
larger than the selling order which had last bombarded the market. I
glanced at Kennedy. Not for a moment did he betray the anxiety I know
he now felt. For the orders must have involved a large part of Miss
Walcott’s own private fortune.
In his abstraction Kennedy had forgotten to stop the telescribe and I
heard over it another voice that sounded like Burke’s.
“Oh, say,” he announced. “I’ve got a clue on that store-room in the
cellar. I――”
“Never mind now, Burke,” I heard Kennedy answer over the telescribe.
“That will keep. Just now there isn’t a minute to spare.”
I heard no more, for Kennedy realized what he was doing and shut the
reproducer off, pulling off the recording cylinder.
Would Miss Walcott’s order be enough to turn the scale? The stock was
down. Her money would purchase more shares than before. If it did and
the stock rose, she stood to win. If it went lower she might lose all.