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Updated: June 17, 2025
Old Johnny there waiting to see me, no end of a swell, Phillson, the uptown lawyer. He went straight for me. "'Been dealing in Hardwells? he asked. "I nodded. "'Short, eh? "'Six hundred shares, I answered. There was no harm in telling him for the Street knew well enough. "'Bad job, he said. 'How much does Wingrave want? "'Shares at par, I answered.
He called for drinks and repeated his question. "Your governor has me six hundred Hardwells short," Nesbitt answered curtly. "Six hundred! What does it mean?" Aynesworth asked. "Sixty thousand dollars, or thereabouts," the young man answered despairingly. "His brokers won't listen to me, and your governor well, I've just been to see him. I won't call him names!
A few minutes before closing time, he threw every share of which he was possessed upon the market, and the next morning Royal Hardwells stood at one dollar seventy-five. For a week Wingrave pursued the same tactics, and at the end of that time he had made twenty thousand dollars. The brokers, however, now understood, or thought they understood, the situation.
"I have only been doing a very small business, sir," he answered, "but quite enough to make a living. I don't speculate as a rule. Hardwells seemed perfectly safe, or I wouldn't have touched them. I sold at four. They are not worth one. I could have bought thousands last week for two dollars." "That is beside the question," Wingrave answered.
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