The Motor Boat Club off Long Island; or, A Daring Marine Game at Racing Speed
Page 22
CHAPTER XXII
SPRINGING THE MONEY MINE
IN an instant all seemed mad frenzy on the floor of the Stock Exchange.
Members ran about, waving slips of paper, bawling themselves hoarse,colliding with each other in efforts to reach desired parts of thefloor.
Junior members of brokerage firms rushed to their private telephones tocall for instructions.
Many thought that the day would go out in widespread panic, for nowmuch more seemed involved than merely the P. & Y. Railroad.
At the first crack of this new firing on the battle line BrokerCoggswell, a written order in his hand, bounded from his seat in thegallery, making his way frantically to the floor below.
Justin Bolton turned for an instant to follow the broker with hiseyes. Then down below he looked to see Coggswell hurl himself into thewild chaos of the ’Change floor.
Broker Coggswell snatched up the entire offering of forty thousandshares like a flash. That held the market steady at that price fora moment. There was even talk among the excited operators that P. &Y. might be good for some rise. Gradually the hubbub lessened. Quietfollowed. Every operator interested waited to see what the next move inthe great game was to be.
Justin Bolton, shaking all over in his excitement at this crisis in thedaring battle he had waged, stood up, leaning forward over the railing.
“Coggswell, your clients must be crazy to go in so heavily on adropping stock,” one “bear” operator called to Delavan’s broker.
“I don’t believe it,” smiled the broker.
“But P. & Y. will be at 40 by to-morrow,” insisted the other.
“Bosh, man!” returned Coggswell, serenely.
“You think you have inside information, do you, Coggswell?” demandedthe “bear,” banteringly.
“My principal client believes he has,” laughed Coggswell, goodhumoredly.
“Your principal client?”
“Yes.”
“I wish I knew who he is,” admitted the “bear,” moving closer to thebold broker.
“Why, I might tell you,” came the smiling retort.
It would be news of great value to many operators to-day to know whowas behind the purchase of forty thousand shares of a falling stock. Acrowd surged around Coggswell.
“Tell us who your client is,” dared the same “bear,” while the size ofthe gaping crowd increased. A hush had again fallen over everything.
“My principal client——” began Coggswell, then paused, smiling in atantalizing way.
“Name him!” insisted the same “bear.”
“Yes, name him! Name him!” came the fevered demand from all sides,though probably not one expected the broker to comply.
“My principal client, for whom I just made the big purchase,” announcedBroker Coggswell, “is Francis Delavan himself.”
“Francis Delavan?”
The cry was taken up and repeated all over the floor. Scores of mencame running to get as near as possible to the talking broker.
“I made that purchase on behalf of the Delavan-Moddridge interests,”continued Coggswell, showing a still smiling face.
“Delavan! Yes, It’s Delavan!”]
“Then you must know where Delavan is?” called someone, ratherbanteringly.
“I do,” nodded Coggswell.
One of the Bolton brokers sent a messenger scurrying to the gallery toinform the arch-plotter.
“Where is Delavan?”
It rose as a shout, penetrating every nook and corner of the greatStock Exchange space.
“Right up there!” called Mr. Coggswell, turning and pointing toward thegallery.
At that instant Mr. Delavan stood up. As he rose he cast off the linenduster and peaked cap. In the next moment he removed the disfiguring,concealing goggles from his eyes, dropping them to the floor.
“Delavan! Yes, it’s Delavan!” rose a mighty shout.
Justin Bolton turned at the same time. He fell back, clutching at aseat, gasping, his lower jaw dropping, his eyes protruding. It must beall a wild, disordered trick of the imagination, for wasn’t FrancisDelavan a close prisoner in that schooner out at sea?
But as Justin Bolton, horror-stricken and dazed, continued to glare atthe calm, smiling face of his foe, it was driven home to him that here,indeed, was Delavan in the flesh.
It came over the scoundrel slowly, but crushingly. Still wildlystaring, foam flecking his lips, Justin Bolton sank back in his seat.
And those below saw. While they could not comprehend it all, they knewthat Justin Bolton, who was known to be the chief factor behind the“bear” movement in P. & Y. stock, plainly admitted defeat.
At all events, Francis Delavan was neither an absconder nor adefaulter, since he was here in the flesh and dared show himself. Thenit was that the report of the accountants, as published in the eveningnewspapers, was remembered and accepted in good faith. Plainly the“bear” movement had been based on a cruel hoax of some kind.
When the tumult had begun to subside, a broker’s voice was heardannouncing:
“I bid 67 for three thousand P. & Y.!”
The upward movement started then and there. Yet there were manycautious ones. Almost at the outset a score of excited operators leftthe floor to crowd about Francis Delavan.
The two intensely interested motor boat boys extricated themselves fromthat crush, standing well apart from the crowd.
“You fool!” hissed a voice in Tom Halstead’s ear.
The young skipper turned, to find himself gazing into the glaring eyesof Justin Bolton.
“In some way,” declared the scoundrel, “this is all your work!”
“Partly mine, partly that of my friends,” Tom smilingly admitted.
“You may have beaten me, but I offered you a fortune to work on myside. What do you get out of this turn of affairs?”
“The satisfaction, at least, Mr. Bolton, of knowing that I’m a decenthuman being, true to what little trusts may come my way.”
“Bah! That, as against a fortune!”
Then, suddenly, as though actuated by uncontrollable fury, Boltonleaped at young Halstead, gripping him furiously by the throat.
“Quit that!” commanded Joe Dawson, sternly. Without waiting the youngengineer swung his fist, striking Bolton a heavy blow full in the face.
The maddened financier let go, staggering back. He reached for one ofhis hip pockets.
But two new actors moved swiftly into this scene. They were plainclothes policemen, provided by the thoughtfulness of Broker Coggswell.Bolton was seized, and his right hand followed to his hip pocket.
“You don’t need this weapon,” remarked one of the officers, takingBolton’s revolver. “Calm down, man, and come with us.”
“But, good heavens, officer, I can’t leave here now,” cried Bolton,his eyes flashing fire. “I’ve millions of dollars at stake on the floorbelow.”
“Then calm down and behave yourself,” advised the other policeman. “Ifyou had drawn that gun and pointed it, we’d have to take you. Behaveyourself, and we’ll let you stay here and attend to your deals.”
“I’ll—I’ll promise,” agreed Justin Bolton, his words coming in a gasp.
This scene, as quickly as it had taken place, had not altogetherescaped the attention of those about Francis Delavan.
“Gentlemen,” said the “Rocket’s” owner, “if you can see any connectionbetween my brief disappearance and that scene over yonder, you’rewelcome to draw your own conclusions. But I’ve nothing further to sayon the subject, for the present, at any rate. My absence from the worldwasn’t a matter of my own choice—that’s all. As to P. & Y., I give youmy word of honor that I regard it as a splendid investment, even at110. If there’s any man here who ever knew me to lie, let him standback and keep out of the good things that are going to happen on theStock Exchange to-day.”
Broker Coggswell, with the help of three of his men, was now on thefloor, snapping up all P. & Y. stock that offered. The selling pricew
as above 70.
Then Clark, one of the Bolton brokers, came rushing up in person toconsult his client. The two withdrew by themselves, forming the newplan of campaign.
While Bolton had been the power behind the plot against P. & Y. stock,yet there were scores of others who had been led into selling thatrailroad stock “short.” They were not going to allow themselves to bewiped out without a struggle of the fiercest sort.
In fact these “shorts” now rallied about Justin Bolton, and a powerfulmoney combine was spontaneously formed.
Francis Delavan was yet a long way from having won the day. Hisdramatic appearance in the gallery of the Stock Exchange had broughtabout at least a strong momentary rise in P. & Y.
Could it be made to last?