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When in camp, and the weather suitable, I always endeavored to assemble the command for Sunday services, so pleased was he to talk to his "boys." I believe every surviving Sixth Michigan cavalryman has in his heart a warm corner for Chaplain Greeley who returned to Gilmartin, New Hampshire, the place where he began his ministerial work, and died there many years ago.
As the result of much thought about his losses Gilmartin became a professional tipster. To let others speculate for him seemed the only sure way of winning. He began by advising ten victims he learned in time to call them clients to sell Steel Rod preferred, each man 100 shares; and to a second ten he urged the purchase of the same quantity of the same stock.
I know that certain papers were signed last night, and they are almost ready to spring it on the public. They haven't got all the stock they want. When they get it, look out for fireworks." Gilmartin did not perceive any resemblance between Freeman's tips and his own. He said, hesitatingly, as though ashamed of his timidity: "The stock seems pretty high at 180."
I feel I am entitled to a glass of 'fizz' to forget my bad luck of this morning." Then, in an exaggeratedly apologetic tone: "Nobody likes to lose five hundred dollars on an empty stomach!" "She'll be delighted, of course," said Hopkins, thinking of Mrs. Gilmartin. Mrs. Hopkins loved jewelry. "She's the nicest little woman that ever lived. Whatever is mine is hers; and what's hers is her own.
I just bought a thousand shares at 180." He really had bought a hundred only. "What on?" "On information. I got it straight from a director of the company. Look here, Gilmartin, I'm pledged to secrecy. But, for your own benefit, I'll just tell you to buy all the Gas you possibly can carry. The deal is on.
Gilmartin had been eager to go to Wall Street. But this leave-taking made him sad. The old Gilmartin who had worked with these men was no more and the new Gilmartin felt sorry. He had never stopped to think how much they cared for him nor indeed how very much he cared for them.
Young Freeman believed in nothing but "their" wickedness and "their" power to advance or depress stock values at will. Thinking of his wisdom had given him a chronic sneer. "You're just the man I was looking for," said Gilmartin, who hadn't thought of the young man at all. "Are you a deputy sheriff?" "No." A slight pause for oratorical effect. "I had a long talk with Sam to-day." "What Sam?"
Five minutes five eternities! passed before they could talk by telephone with him; and when he gave his order to sell, the market had broken five or six points. The news was "out." The news agencies' slips were in the brokers' offices and half of Wall Street knew. Instead of being among the first ten sellers Gilmartin was among the second hundred. The clerks gave him a farewell dinner.
Of a sudden Gilmartin was in the midst of his old life. He saw all that he had been, all that he might still be. And he was overwhelmed. He longed to rush to his old associates, to speak to them, to shake hands with them, to be the old Gilmartin. He was about to step toward Jenkins, but stopped abruptly. His clothes were shabby, and he felt ashamed.
This deprived Gilmartin of his income as a tipster. Griggs had kept on speculating and had lost all his money and his wife's in a little deal in Iowa Midland. All that Gilmartin could hope to get from him was an occasional invitation to dinner. Mrs.
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