United States or New Caledonia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Eppner was short and a little stooped, with a blue-black mustache, snapping blue-black eyes, and strong blue-black dots over his face where his beard struggled vainly against the devastating razor. Both were strongly marked with the shrewd, money-getting visage. I set forth my business. "You wand to gif a larch order?" said Bockstein, looking over my memoranda. "Do you haf references?"
His blue-black eyes regarded me as but a necessary part of the machinery of commerce. I gave my orders briefly. "Dot is a larch order," said Bockstein dubiously. "You don't have to take it," I was about to retort, when Eppner's high- pitched voice interrupted: "It's all right. The customary margin is enough." Wallbridge was more enthusiastic.
The buyers who traded face to face, and the brokers who carried their offices under their hats, were noisily bargaining, raising as much clamor over buying and selling a few shares as the most important dealer in the big boards could raise over the transfer of as many thousands. It was easy to find Bockstein and Eppner, and there could be no mistaking the prosperity of the firm.
At Doddridge Knapp's suggestion I arranged to do my business through three brokers, and added Lattimer and Hobart to Wallbridge, and Bockstein and Eppner. Bockstein greeted me affably: "Velgome to de marget vonce more, Mr. , Mr. "Wilton," said Eppner, assisting his partner in his high, dry voice, with cold civility.
At the end of this harangue I found myself outside the office, with Bockstein's back waddling toward the private room where the partners were to have their last consultation before going to the Board. My check had been honored, then, and Bockstein had assured himself of my solvency. In the rebound from anxiety, I swelled with the pride of a capitalist on Doddridge Knapp's money.
Bockstein relieved the embarrassment of the situation by coming in out of breath, with a brave pretense of having been merely consulting a customer in the next room. "You haf exblained to Misder Eppner?" he inquired. "Den all is done. Here is a card to der Board Room. If orders you haf to gif, Eppner vill dake dem on der floor. Zhust gif him der check for margin, and all is vell."
You can pick your own brokers. Better begin with Bockstein and Eppner, though. Your checks will be honored at the Nevada Bank. Oh, here's a cipher, in case I want to write you. I suppose you'll want some ready money." Doddridge Knapp was certainly a liberal provider, for he shoved a handful of twenty-dollar gold pieces across the desk in a way that made my eyes open.
How large a balance I could draw against I had not the faintest idea. Possibly this was a trap to throw me into jail as a common swindler attempting to pass worthless checks. But there was no time to hesitate. I drew a check for the amount, signed Henry Wilton's name, and tossed it over to Bockstein. "All ridt," said the senior partner. "Zhust talk it ofer vit Misder Eppner. He goes on der floor."
The indifference of the clerks to my presence, and the evident contempt with which an order for a hundred shares of something was being taken from an apologetic old gentleman were enough to assure me of that. Bockstein and Eppner were together, evidently consulting over the business to be done. Bockstein was tall and gray-haired, with a stubby gray beard.
Word Of The Day