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Out of politeness he asked the young cynic the universal query of the Street: "What do you think of 'em?" He meant stocks. "What difference does it make what I think?" sneered Freeman, with proud humility. "I'm nobody." But he looked as if he did not agree with himself. "What do you know?" pursued Gilmartin mollifyingly. "I know enough to be long of Gotham Gas.
Sam Sharpe told" Gilmartin was on the point of saying a "friend of mine," but caught himself and went on, impressively "told me, yesterday, to buy Pa. Cent., as he had accumulated his full line, and was ready to whoop it up. And you know what Sharpe is," he finished, as if he thought Smithers was familiar with Sharpe's powers. "Is that so," nibbled Smithers.
Smith, for instance, who was long of 500 St. Paul at 125, took less interest in the deal than did Gilmartin, who thenceforth assiduously studied the news slips and sought information on St.
But not so Gilmartin, who retorted, witheringly: "Well, I've often heard of folks that you put into good things and they make money and afterward they come to you and tell how damned smart they were to hit it right. But you can't work that on me. I've got witnesses." "Witnesses?" echoed Smithers, looking cheap. He remembered.
Sharpe started the stock upward brilliantly the movement became historic in the Street and Pa. Cent, soared dizzily and all the newspapers talked of it and the public went mad over it and it touched 80 and 85 and 88 and higher, and then Gilmartin made his brother-in-law sell out and Smithers and Freeman. Their profits were: Griggs, $8,000; Smithers, $15,100; Freeman, $2,750.
And, of course, the long-expected happened and the market went up with a rapidity that made the Street blink; and Gilmartin figured that had not the brokers refused his last order, he would have made enough to pay off the indebtedness and have left, in addition, $2,950; for he would have "pyramided" on the way up.
His wife, seeing him preoccupied, thought business was bad; but Griggs denied it, confirming her worst fears. Finally, he had a telephone put in his little shop, to be able to talk to his broker. Gilmartin, with the ten dollars he had borrowed, promptly bought ten shares in a bucket shop at 63%; the stock promptly went to 62%; he was promptly "wiped"; and the stock promptly went back to 64%.
That was more than Gilmartin had made; but having exaggerated, he immediately felt very kindly disposed toward the Connecticut man. "Whew!" whistled Hopkins, admiringly. Gilmartin experienced a great tenderness toward him. The lie was made stingless by the customer's credulity. This brought a smile of subtle relief to Gilmartin's lips.
But you must keep it quiet," with a sidewise nod that pledged Smithers to honorable secrecy. Had Gilmartin met Sharpe face to face, he would not have known who was before him. Shortly after he left Smithers he buttonholed another acquaintance, a young man who thought he knew Wall Street, and therefore had a hobby manipulation.
But he had not even his carfare. Then he remembered that he had not eaten since breakfast. It did him no good to remember it now. He would have to get his dinner from Griggs in Brooklyn. "Why," Gilmartin told himself with a burst of curious self-contempt, "I can't even buy a cup of coffee!"
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