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Updated: June 17, 2025
Murch that things could not have turned out better if he had ordered them himself. "Gunterson is the very man for our purposes," he said. "He's a stuffed shirt if there ever was one. I couldn't have made a better appointment for us myself. We can bleed the Guardian of every desirable agent they've got, and he won't know how to stop us." And Mr.
In point of truth, it was all over. It was barely possible that a strong and determined man could have effected something had he known how to set about it but Mr. Gunterson did not know how. No hack actor suddenly confronted with a strange and difficult part felt more inept than he. He conceived that within him was the power to deliver a tremendous blow but he could not find its mark.
A new vigor fortified him he would find an agent for the Guardian who should excel the Osgood connection as the sun outshines the moon. In one office of perhaps more notoriety than prominence, though Mr. Gunterson knew it not, at that very moment the matter was being discussed. "Well, Jake," said Sternberg, of Sternberg, Bloom, and McCoy, "they've passed it."
But I do not care to do business with you, sir on that point my mind is unchanged." "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way about it," said the other, with the good nature which as victor he could afford to maintain. "Good-day, Mr. Osgood." Mr. Osgood passed through the doorway, but Gunterson, following him, smitten with vague valor and sudden fury, turned.
It had been a remarkable task; and Smith, now that he came to look back on it, remembering the black days of the reign of Gunterson the Unready, could himself only wonder mildly at the way all these things had come about. In the midst of the satisfaction which he could not help but feel, there was always a genuine sense of amazement at the facile way in which Fate had played into his hand.
Almost at the very time of this speculation on his part, a train was carrying toward Boston no less a person than F. Mills O'Connor of the Salamander. Almost at the very hour of a Tuesday morning, when Mr. Gunterson was gravely assuring Mr.
"You you!" was all he said, at a loss for words in his anger, and the President of the Salamander met him with a smile of humorous contempt. "Why, hello!" he said, "here's Gunterson! Come to Boston to find a new agent, I suppose. So did I, to tell the truth. Good luck, old man." Mr. Gunterson turned his back on his tormentor, and passed on. He could think of no appropriate retort.
Wintermuth the advisability of purchasing for the Guardian some bonds of an embryonic steel company then erecting a plant in Alabama. Mr. Gunterson knew personally some of the people back of this, the bonds seemed remarkably cheap, and the bonus in common stock made the proposition in his opinion decidedly attractive. Mr.
Gunterson left the Guardian when the fat was all but in the fire, and another turn was given to affairs. And the year now just closing had been a busy year for Mr. Richard Smith. During the most of it he had worked nearly twelve hours a day, and spent a liberal share of the balance in laying his plans.
And so it befell that the directors, after voting him salary in advance for a liberal term, accepted the resignation from the Guardian of Samuel Gunterson; and to fill the vacancy so created, there was unanimously elected to be Vice-President and under-writing manager, Richard Smith. Smith took office at nine o'clock on the first business day of April.
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