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Updated: June 11, 2025
Don't you suppose Shepler knows what he's about? there's a boy that won't be peddling shoe-laces and gum-drops off one of these neat little bosom-trays not for eighty-five or ninety-thousand years yet and Relpin, even if he was drunk, knows Shepler's deals like you know Skiplap. They'll bear the stocks all they can while they're buying up.
Consolidated Copper fell off two points, upon rumours, traceable to no source, that the company had on hand a large secret supply of copper, and was producing largely in excess of the demand every month. Percival told Uncle Peter of these rumours, and chuckled with the easy confidence of a man who knows secrets. "You see, it's coming the way Relpin said.
But then, Wall Street is nourished almost exclusively upon differences of opinion. Percival now had accounts with five firms of brokers. "Relpin," he explained to Uncle Peter, "is a foxy boy. He's foxier than a fox.
I didn't want to embarrass him. Funny about him, too. I never heard before of his drinking anything to speak of. And there isn't a man in the Street comes so near to knowing what the big boys are up to. But we're on the winning cards all right. I get exactly the same information from a dozen confidential sources; some of it I can trace to Relpin, and some of it right to Shepler himself."
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