CHAPTER XXXVI
GOING, GOING, GONE!
Winn Hardy, agentle child when the hand of want was stretched out tohim, but a lion in wrath at all iniquity and injustice, was not long incarrying out his thought to write the history of the Rockhaven GraniteCompany, and for the sole purpose of a warning.
To do so, came as an excuse to protect the pride of the poor girl whohad been his co-worker; and when it was done, the editor to whom he tookit gladly used it and, more than that, praised its writer editorially.
Winn, as was his nature, wrote with candor, sparing not even himself orthe way he was duped, and it is needless to say that his article waswidely read. Winn looked for no compensation, but the editor, keen todiscover talent, at once offered him a position as city news reporter onthe paper. And so his reward came. It was not over ample, so far assalary goes, but it was at least an occupation--what he just nowneeded.
One morning, when passing the closed office of Weston & Hill, he saw onthe door a notice that, at two o'clock that afternoon, all the officefixtures and other assets of this bankrupt firm would be sold at publicauction.
As Winn stood there that wintry morning, with the hurrying stream ofpeople jostling him as they passed, while he read this business epitaphposted upon the massive doors, what a grim travesty it seemed!
He looked at the two nickel plates flanking them, once kept bright, butnow tarnished, upon which the firm's name in bold black letters stillstared at him, at the drawn curtains where "Investment Securities" ingold still uttered their lie; and gazing at these outward signs ofdeception and fraud, all the varying changes in his own hopes, plans,and opinions for a six months passed in review.
And in fancy he leaped back to Rockhaven.
He peeped into the store where quaint Jess Hutton fiddled in lieu ofcompany; he was one of the little gathering each Sunday at church there;he saw the quarry with the men at work, the tiny dooryard with Monawatering her flowers, the grand old gorge where the sea waves leaped in,and the cave once carpeted with ferns in his honor, and (most touchingof all) the moment he had parted from a timid girl, while the moon,rising out of a boundless ocean, smiled at them.
Now, it was a memory of the past, and he, sore at heart, with only a fewhundred dollars in the bank, was hunting for news items at so much aline, and the "so much" a mere pittance.
Truly, the whirligig of time had made a toy of him!
For full five minutes he stood, with sinking spirits, and then passedon.
"I'll be at this auction," he thought, "and maybe bid in my old officechair for a keepsake. Besides, it will make an item."
He was there on time and found that a considerable crowd had gathered.
Most of them were brokers or their clerks who had been in business touchwith this defunct firm, and now came to witness its obsequies. Nearlyall had been losers in Rockhaven but, as stock gamblers are wont to do,took it good-naturedly and joked one another about being "easy marks"and "good things," and looked at this auction as an excellent objectlesson.
The auctioneer, quick to catch the spirit of his audience, saw hisopening, and with ready wit made the most of it. The officefittings--chairs, desks, tables, etc.--were put up first, and Winnbought his old chair for fifty cents. Then came the pictures; and aframed photograph of Weston, holding the reins over a fine pair ofhorses, brought a quarter; another of Simmons's steam yacht, a dollar;and then a crayon portrait of Weston, in massive gilt frame, was handedto the auctioneer.
"Here we have," he said, "a costly painting of J. Malcolm Westonhimself, and how much am I offered? It is, as you observe, an excellentpicture of this Napoleon of finance, and certainly cost a hundreddollars. How much for it?"
An offer of thirty cents was heard.
"Thirty cents, did I hear?" he continued, in a disgusted tone, "thirtycents for this magnificent portrait! You can't mean it! Thirty cents fora picture of one who cost some of you many thousands! Thirty cents! Yegods, how have the mighty fallen! Look at his winning smile, hisWebsterian brow, his eagle eye that saw Rockhaven afar! And hiswhiskers! And I am offered but thirty cents! Why, gentlemen, the framecost as many dollars, and think what an awful warning this picture willbe to most of you. Think of the beautiful tales he told, the greatindustry he started, the money he spent--your money, gentlemen, and I amoffered but thirty cents! Why, it's worth a thousand dollars as anobject lesson in finance. Come, don't let this master of the stockexchange be sold for thirty cents! It's a shame! Thirty cents, thirtycents once, thirty cents twice, thirty cents three times, and sold forthirty cents!" And the broker who bought it didn't want it at that.
The safe, with all the books it contained, was sold next, and then theauctioneer, holding aloft an open deed with its red seal attachedsaid:--
"I now offer for sale the only real, tangible asset the great RockhavenGranite Company ever had, a deed of its quarry on Rockhaven Island. Thisproperty originally cost two thousand dollars, and was the sole basis ofthis gigantic scheme capitalized at one million! How much am I offered?"
A wag bid ten cents, another a dollar. Then came a bid of fifty. Andthen Winn, who up to this time had been a silent spectator of thecomedy, felt a sudden intuition that here and now was his chance. Hethought of the island, still dear to his memory, of the men to whom hiscoming had been a godsend, of Jess Hutton who, at parting, had offeredhand and heart, and of Mona and the little knot of flowers he had oncekept fresh in a tiny spring that bubbled out of this same quarry.
And thinking thus, he bid one hundred dollars.
But the auctioneer knew not of the fine sentiment prompting the offer,and continued his burlesque:--
"One hundred dollars," he said, "one hundred offered for this property,cheap at two thousand! What are you thinking of?"
Then, after a pause, while he waited another bid, he continued: "Onehundred I'm offered for this splendid piece of real estate, with all itsimprovements; for this matchless quarry of pink granite, once calledworth a million! Why, gentlemen, have you gone daft? Don't you know agood thing when you see it? It wasn't so long ago when I heard some ofyou eagerly bidding thirty and forty dollars for a single share in thisimmense property, and now you won't raise a bid of one hundred dollarsfor its total valuation! Is this business? Is this finance? Come,gentlemen, wake up and buy this rich ledge of valuable granite, goingfor a song! Think of what it has seemed to you; what might again be madeout of it! Think of the thousands of dupes still anxious to buy fairytales and pay money for them! Think of the money you have lost in thisone!
"And I am offered one hundred dollars for it! One hundred once, onehundred twice, one hundred three times, and--sold!"
And that auctioneer, really disgusted this time, stepped down and handedthe deed to Winn.
Winn wrote a check for that amount, and utterly unconscious of howvaluable a purchase he had made, put the deed in his pocket, and leftthe crowd.
In a way, the whole affair had seemed much like a burlesque on afuneral, and he a mourner. When the rest had laughed at the auctioneer'ssallies, no smile came to him, and he bid feeling that he was likely toobtain a white elephant.
That night, in the solitude of his room, he came near writing a farewellletter to Mona and enclosing this deed as a keepsake. Only priderestrained him.
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