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Updated: June 16, 2025
Beulah Sands had gone beyond her limit and was at peace. The awful groaning stopped and an ashen pallor spread over Bob Brownley's face. Before I could catch him he rolled backward upon the floor as dead. Bob Brownley, too, had gone beyond his limit.
Four years after Bob Brownley entered the Stock Exchange he had paid back the forty thousand, with interest, and not only had a snug fifty thousand to his credit on Randolph & Randolph's books, but was sending home six thousand a year while living up to, as he jokingly put it, "an honest man's notch."
It was a beautiful July Saturday noon and Bob and I had just "packed up" for the day preparatory to joining Mrs. Randolph on my yacht for a run down to our place at Newport. As we stepped out of his office one of the clerks announced that a lady had come in and had particularly asked to see Mr. Brownley.
Two burlesques of Shakespeare by a Mr Brown or Brownley were in course of performance in London. We read in Mr. The women of the dramas, with one or two exceptions, are composed of fewer elements than the men.
Bob Brownley paused and looked down into the faces of the breathless gamblers with a contempt that was superb. He went on: "Men of Wall Street, it is writ in the books of the ancients that every evil contains within itself a cure or a destroyer.
Yet there was something in the eye, in the setness of the jaw, in the hair-trigger calm, yet fiercely savage grip in which he closed his strong hands on the arms of his chair, that told me more plainly than words that this was not the optimistic, soft-hearted Bob Brownley I had known and loved.
Don't forget that millions is the crest of the groundlings. And, Jim, I thought my friends looked at me with reproachful eyes, as they said, 'You are well on the road, Bob Brownley, and in time your heart and soul will bear the hall-mark of the snaky S on the two upright bars, and you will be but a frenzied fellow in the Dirty Dollar army. Jim, Jim Randolph, as I listened to that agonising tale of the changing of that girl's heaven to hell, I did not see that halo you and I have thought surrounded the sign of Randolph & Randolph.
Brownley a little about my father and our home, that you may see our situation as it is. My father is one of the noblest men that ever lived.
It is this: The concentration of wealth in the hands of a few Americans is a menace to our financial structure. It is the unanimous opinion of 'the Street' that Robert Brownley could never have succeeded in battering down the price of Sugar in the very teeth of the Camemeyer and Standard Oil support as he did yesterday, without a cash backing of from fifty to one hundred millions.
I had been sitting in my office, letting the tape slide through my fingers while its every yard spelled "panic" in a constantly rising voice, when they told me that Brownley on the floor of the Exchange wanted me at the 'phone, and "quick." Brownley was our junior partner and floor man. He talked with a rush. Stock Exchange floor men in panics never let their speech hobble. "Mr.
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