"Mr Weener," he said, "I have been empowered to make you an incredible
tender for your stock. Not only will the boardofdirectors of
Consolidated Pemmican return to you six times the amount of your
investment, but they will assign to you, over and above this price, 49
percent of the company's votingstock. It is a magnificent and
unparalleled bid and I sincerely advise you to take it."
I pressed my palms into the back of the chair. I, Albert Weener, was a
capitalist. The money involved already seemed negligible, for it was a
mere matter of a few thousand dollars, but to own what amounted to a
controlling interest, even in a defunct or somnolent corporation, made
me an important person. Only a reflex made me gasp, "I will take
immediate delivery."
The broker dropped his hands against his thighs. "Mr Weener, you are an
acute man. Mr Weener, I must confess the truth. You have bought more
shares of Consolidated Pemmican than there are in existence; you not
only own the firm, lock, stock and barrel, but you owe yourself money."
He gave a weak laugh.
"Above and beyond this, Mr Weener, through an unfortunate series of
events due to the confusion of the times--without it, such an absurd
situation would never have occurred--several people: our own firm, our
New York correspondents, and the present heads of Consolidated Pemmican
are liable to prosecution by the Securities Exchange Commission. We can
only throw ourselves on your mercy."