"Well, then came the issue. That was last Saturday.
You saw the prospectus in Saturday morning's papers, and in the weeklies. The list was to be kept open, it said, till Wednesday morning--that was yesterday.
That is to say, during all that time, people could apply for shares.""Which they didn't do--according to your account,"the sister suggested, dryly.
Thorpe passed his fingers through his roughened hair, and eyed her with a momentary quizzical gleam in his eye.
Then he became serious again. The recollection of what he was now to narrate brought a frown to his brows.
"On Tuesday afternoon," he began, with portentous deliberation--"Or no, first I must explain something.
You see, in bringing out a company, you can't put up too stout a bluff. I mean, you've got to behave as if you were rolling in wealth--as if everything was coming your way, and fortunes were to be made by fastening to you.
I don't know that it often fools anybody very much, but it's part of the game, and you must play it.
Well, accordingly, my Broker goes on 'change Saturday morning, and has his jobber shout out that he'll buy 'Rubber Consols'--that's what our shares are called on the street--at an eighth premium; that is to say, he offered to buy for twenty-two-and-six what we were offering to the public for twenty shillings. Of course, you see, the object of that was to create the impression that there was a regular God-almighty rush for our shares.
As I say, I don't know whether that ever fooled anybody--but at least there was the chance that it might start up some dealing in the shares--and all those things help.
Besides, you got the sales noticed in the papers, and that might start up applications from the public.
Well, the Broker bought 1,000 shares this way on Saturday.
On Monday, when it might still be possible to change the luck, he bought 3,500 more, still at that premium of an eighth. He bought some Tuesday morning too--say 4,000. Well, now, keep those figures in your head, and keep an eye on the Broker. He's worth watching--as you'll see.""What's his name?" asked the sister, with an accession of alertness in her face. "You call him 'Broker'--and that doesn't mean anything to me. They're all brokers, aren't they?""Semple--Colin Semple, that's his name. He's a young Scotchman--father's a Presbyterian minister. He's a little, insignificant runt of a chap to look at--but I learned a long time ago not to judge a singed cat by his looks.
However--where was I?"
"You were going to tell about Tuesday afternoon, weren't you?"He nodded gravely, and straightened himself, drawing a long breath in preparation for the dramatic recital before him.
"On Tuesday afternoon," he began again, with impressive slowness, "I was walking on Throgmorton Street, about four o'clock. It was raining a little--it had been raining on and off all day--a miserable, rotten sort of a day, with greasy mud everywhere, and everybody poking umbrellas into you. I was out walking because I'd 'a' cut my throat if I'd tried to stay in the office another ten minutes. All that day I hadn't eaten anything.
I hadn't slept worth speaking of for three nights.
The whole game was up for me. I was worse than ruined.
I had half a crown in my pocket. I had ten or twelve pounds in the bank--and they wouldn't let me overdraw a farthing.
I tell you, I was just plumb busted.
"There came along in the gutter a sandwich-man. I'd seen the cuss before during the day, walking up and down near my offices. I took notice of him, because he was the raggedest, dirtiest, most forlorn-looking cripple you ever saw in your life. Now I read what was on his boards.
It was the bill of a paper that I had refused to be bled by, and there it was in big letters: 'The Rubber Bubble Burst!'
'Thorpe's Audacity Punished!' Those were the words.
I can see them with my eyes shut. I stood there, looking at the fellow, and I suppose there was something in the way I looked, for he stopped too.
Of course, he didn't know me from Adam, but all the same, I'm damned if he didn't wink his eye at me--as if we two had a joke between us. And at that I burst out laughing--Isimply roared with laughter, like a boy at a pantomime--and I took that last half-crown out of my pocket, and I gave it to the sandwich-man. God! you should have seen his face.""I don't particularly mind, Joel," said his sister, "but I never heard you swear so much before.""Oh, what the--what the deuce!" he protested, impatiently.
"Don't interrupt me now! Well, I went on down the street.
The members of the Stock Exchange were coming out of 'the house,' and making up little groups on the pavement.
They do business inside, you know, until closing time--this day it happened to be four o'clock--and then they come out and deal in the street with one another, with the kerb-stone mob, who are not allowed inside, standing round to watch the thing. I came along into the thick of these fellows; they were yelling out all sorts of things--'East Rands,' 'Oroyas,' 'Lake View Centrals,' and what not, but these went in one ear and out the other.
If there ever was a man with no stomach for the market it was me. But then someone roared out:
"'At seven-eighths, sell Rubber Consols! Sell five hundred Rubber at seven-eighths! Sell five hundred at three-quarters! At three-quarters you have 'em!
Rubber Consols! Sell a thou. at three-quarters!'
"This thing went into my brain like a live coal. I stopped and looked up at the fellow--and by God, it was one of the men I've been talking about--one of those Kaffir scoundrels.
I wish I was better at remembering names--but I knew his face.
There were some of the others around him, and they laughed at me, and he laughed at me. Oh, they had a heap of fun out of me--for a minute or two. Pretty good fun, too! I guess they'll remember it quite a while.""Go on!" Louisa adjured him. The obvious proximity of the dramatic climax drew her forward in her chair, and brought a glow of expectation to her eyes.
