“ I thought of that the moment I saw you together,” Myers went on, “ and it occurred to me that you were precisely the men I wanted to see. A large block of the stock in Bagsbury and Company’s Savings Bank was placed in my hands this morning for sale. The owner gave me no further instructions, and I suppose his idea was that I sell it on the stock exchange, in the open market. There would be no difficulty about that, for everybody knows that the stock’s a gilt-edged investment.”
He paused to give them plenty of time to think, and then went on:
“ Bank affairs are like family affairs ; if you can settle them without an appeal to the gen- eral public, it’s somewhat better. This is a large block of stock, and offering it in the open market would attract attention. I don’t know that it would do any harm. This bank’s too solid to be hurt that way. But it seemed to me that if I could sell it privately, it would be better. In any case, it wants to be settled up by to-morrow morning. I was very fortunate in finding you here together. It occurred to me that you trustees might want to buy it for the Bagsbury estate.”
Again the two old gentlemen frowned, and again the stockbroker smiled almost impercep- tibly. For the estate, indeed ! That would mean, no doubt, another snub from the intoler- able M off at.
“ Or, of course, for any other party. I shall be very glad, indeed, if you gentlemen can relieve me of the matter.”
“ It was most praiseworthy of you to make
The Banker and the Bear this attempt to dispose of the stock quietly,” said Cartwright, with ponderous condescension. “ I cannot applaud your delicacy too highly. A public sale would undoubtedly arouse imperti- nent curiosity and set idle tongues to wagging. We shall be glad to consider your proposition. Er who is the present holder of the stock?”
“ There is nothing to make a mystery about. I know of no reason in the world why I should not tell you it, except (he was something of a practical humorist, this stockbroker) except that I have no explicit instructions giving me the right to tell you.”
“ You decline to tell me “
“ In the absence of express permission from my customer to tell you, I think it would be rather unbusinesslike to do so. That is all. You are familiar with the way the stock is held, and doubtless if you buy it, the certificates will inform you who it is who has sold them.”
For some time the trustees, or rather Mr. Cartwright, toyed with the bait, trying to find out who was holding the other end of the line. Through the conversation you must imagine Mr. Meredith as Echo, sending back, with pro- found conviction, the last phrase of each of Mr.
Cartwright’s sentences. There was some hag- gling over the price, some discussion of ways and means, and at last the two old gentlemen agreed to take the matter under serious advise- ment, and the stockbroker left them.
“ They promised to let me know in the morn- ing,” Myers telephoned his customer a little later. “ I think we’ve landed them all right.” Next morning he was able to verify his predic- tion. “I’ve got the check. They tried hard to make me tell them who you were, and they’re trying to guess now, from the names of the original holders on the certificates.They’re pleased clear through over the deal, though. They think it gives them a sort of a grind on Moffat.”
John Bagsbury always began the celebration of the Sabbath day by a somewhat unsuccessful attempt to shave himself, and it was quite in the nature of things that when he came down stairs he should find the rest of the family wait- ing for him in the dining room. He glanced at the index column of the thick Sunday news- paper, which lay beside his plate, and then, instead of making his usual remark that he didn’t like to have the thing in the house and meant to discontinue his subscription, he turned quickly to the front page of the supplements. There in big letters across the sheet he read, “ Pickering’s Lard Deal.” The article which followed was treated after the most approved prin- ciples of Sunday journalism. There was a mis- erable “ half-tone,” which bore no resemblance to William G. Pickering, and there were spirited illustrations of the scenes on the Board of Trade when the bottom had mysteriously fallen out of the market. The subject was treated exhaust- ively. Other famous deals in lard were brought up for comparison with this one, and there was a detailed account of Pickering’s earlier exploits. And then at the bottom of a half column of seemingly learned comment upon the probable outcome was the statement that Bagsbury and Company was said to be in the deal with Picker- ing, and would no doubt see him through if pos- sible, as they had already let him have a great deal of money.
John glanced over the whole article. He should have taken warning from the other and contrived to head this off; but there was no time for regretting the mistake, and he turned from that to the present aspect of the situation.
Sponley had made his second move, and John felt it a relief that the period of inaction was over. The Bear must have had some good rea- son for waiting till now for giving out the infor- mation he hadpossessed as early as Tuesday night It remained for the Banker to discover what that reason was.
He tossed the paper aside, told two funny stories to Mrs. Bagsbury, ran a verbal tilt with Dick, who, taken by surprise, had rather the worst of it, and then began asking Martha absurd questions about her Sunday-school les- son. When they rose from the table, he an. nounced his intention of going to church.
“I can think so well there,” he explained. “ I can see through more things while the ser- mon is going on than I can all the rest of the week.”
“There’s a gentleman to see you, sir,” said the maid. “ He’s in the library.”
When John opened the door he found Mr. Cartwright striding hurriedly about the room, much in the manner of a caged polar bear. The old gentleman had driven to the house, but he could not have looked warmer had he run all the way.
“ Sit down, Mr. Cartwright,” said the Banker. “ Make yourself as comfortable as possible this hot morning.” N
But Mr. Cartwright had no intention of being comfortable. He wheeled upon John, drew from an inner pocket the Morning Herald Supplement, and thrust it out at arm’s length, as though it were a deadly weapon. “ Have you read that?” he demanded.
John glanced at it carelessly, then handed it back. “ Yes,” he said, “ I have read it. That kind of thing is extremely irritating.”
“ Irritating ! “ thundered Mr. Cartwright. He walked suddenly to the window and peered anxiously down the street. “ I telephoned to Mr. Meredith to meet me here,” he said, in an uneasy parenthesis. Then turning again upon John he wrathfully repeated, “ Irritating ! “
“That is my great objection to the Sun- day papers,” the Banker went on politely. “ They drag a man back to school when he’s entitled to a holiday. A man should be spared annoyances of this sort one day in the week.”
“ I do not take the Sunday papers ; I dis- approve of them as strongly, no doubt, as you yourself. This infamous article was shown me by a friend of mine, a very good friend of mine.”
“ I should be inclined to doubt the friendship of a man who did me such a favor,” said the Banker, smiling.
“ Upon my word, you take this very lightly, Mr. Bagsbury ! “ The old gentleman spoke fiercely, but he was not himself ; he missed his echo. He checked another movement toward the window. “ I wish Mr. Meredith would come. In a grave matter like this, his judg- ment would be invaluable.”
“If you will allow me,” said John, “it seems to me that you are taking it rather more seri- ously than is necessary.”
“Is it not serious ? “ demanded the other. “You don’t mean to tell me, sir, that it is not true ! “
“ It’s not true. It has a groundwork of fact, if you will; but in so far as it insinuates that the bank is involved, and that the safety of the bank depends on Pickering’s succeeding in running a corner in lard, it is an unqualified lie.”
“ I was otherwise informed by my friend “
“Your friend is one who can speak with authority in the matter ? “
“Yes, sir,
” said Mr. Cartwright. “He told me that for several days he had feared that this would happen. He thinks that the publi- cation of these facts puts the bank in a very serious position.”
“ Did he did Mr. Sponley, I mean suggest that you come to me ? “ John asked quietly.
“ I do not see the pertinency of that question, Mr. Bagsbury.” Mr. Cartwright glanced ner- vously toward the door. He longed for the unwavering support of Mr. Meredith’s valuable opinion.
“You are right,” said John. “That has nothing to do with the matter. But I can assure you that Mr. Sponley is mistaken. I know more of the bank’s condition than it is possible for Mr. Sponley to know, and I am not at all alarmed. We may feel the effect of this attack for a few months, or even longer; I fancy that we shall. But I cannot, really, see any ground for your concern in the matter. Your position as one of the trustees of my property is not affected. Of course, if the bank should fail, you might have to bear part of the stigma that a bank failure almost always brings. But the bank is not going to fail. A falling off in our deposits, or a depression of the market value of our stock, or even the passing of a dividend, need occasion you no distress. Those things may trouble our stockholders, though I don’t imagine that any of the larger ones will feel any great alarm. But you and Mr. Meredith and Mr. Moffat need have no uneasiness.”
“Mr. Moffat may be uneasy or not, just as he pleases ; but Mr. Meredith and I are stock- holders, sir; large stockholders.”
“ Indeed ? “ said John. “ Have you held the stock very long ? “
“ There again, sir, you are asking an imper- tinent question.”
The next moment poor Mr. Cartwright, his temper all gone to shreds, drew a breath of relief, for the maid had opened the door and ushered Mr. Meredith into the library.
“ Mr. Cartwright and I have been discussing this most unfortunate article in the Herald” said John.
“ Unfortunate is too mild a word for my feel- ings,” said Mr. Meredith. Then in his great
The Banker and the Bear excitement he made a perfectly original re- mark,
“ If we had only waited another day “
He stopped there, transfixed by a blasting look from his fellow-trustee, but he had said enough.
So that was Sponley’s reason for waiting. As John thought of the beautiful shrewdness of the move, he smiled.
“You are amused, eh!” roared Mr. Cart- wright. “ I understand you. You sold us that stock yourself, and when you have run the bank through a few more scandals, you mean to buy it back cheap. You are a swindler ! “
“That brings our discussion to an end, Mr. Cartwright,” said John Bagsbury. “ Good morning, gentlemen,” he added, holding open the door into the hall.
As the carriage drove away he walked back to his desk and wrote the following note :
“ DEAR SPONLEY : I have just learned of the sale of your stock in our bank to Messrs. Cart- wright and Meredith. As you have no further interest in Bagsbury and Company, and as you are opposed to its present policy, I suggest that you hand me your resignation from the Board of Directors. We shall be glad to act upon it at
once.
“ JOHN BAGSBURY.”
“Are you going to church with us, dear?” asked Alice, from the doorway.
“ Yes,” he said. “ I’m afraid I’ll have to go twice. Just wait a minute and I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER XIII
HOW THE BEAR SPENT SUNDAY
SPONLEY was well satisfied with the course events so far had taken. He had got rid of his bank stock quietly and at a good price, with the double advantage to himself of an increased freedom of movement, and a greater supply of ammunition for his operations against Picker- ing. But what pleased him far more was this : he had taken Harriet almost without reserve into his confidence, and she was, as she had been in so many earlier campaigns, his partner. He remembered how she had felt when she had learned of his understanding with Curtin, and he had entertained strong misgivings as to the effect which a revelation of his present schemes would have upon her. But reflecting that, how- ever carefully he might conceal his doings, she was sure to guess at a great deal, he had braced himself for a somewhat disagreeable scene and had told her nearly everything.
It was his last big fight, he had said, and quite sincerely. When this lard corner of Pick- ering’s was fairly broken, they would go out of business and find some less exacting game to play for the rest of their lives. To his surprise, and to his infinite relief, she had entered into his plans with all her old-time enthusiasm, accept- ing with very good grace even the enforced hos- tility with John.
“ It doesn’t really make so much difference,” she said ; “ neither of you can help it. He’s right from his point of view ; but when it’s all over he’ll see your side of it, and we can be as good friends as we were before. I hope, though, that your beating Pickering won’t hurt the bank very seriously.”
“I hope so, too,” he assented, and again he told the truth.
Early in the afternoon a messenger boy brought John’s note. Harriet read it over her husband’s shoulder.
“John is quick, isn’t he ?” she said.
“ Yes ; but it won’t do him any good. Wait a minute, boy, and I’ll give you an answer.”
He scrawled something on a sheet of note paper and handed it to her. It read :
“ DEAR BAGSBURY : I shall seriously consider doing as you suggest.
“ Cordially,
“ MELVILLE SPONLEY.”
“ That doesn’t tell him too much, does it ? “ he asked, smiling.
Nevertheless he settled himself to some serious thinking. Though it did not at all disconcert him, John’s note showed him that he must alter his plans. Up to this time his sole idea had been, as John had foreseen, to rouse the directors and the large stockholders in an opposition sufficiently determined to compel the Banker to drop Pickering. That had been his motive for the attack on the bank in this morning’s Herald. But between the lines of the note John had told him plainly that he had fathomed his plans, and that fully realizing the pressure which would be put upon him he was not to be frightened nor coerced. Yet somehow the bulldog must be made to let go.
“ That’s the whole trick,” said Sponley, aloud. “ The minute Bagsbury is put out of the fight, I can handle Pickering. John’s the only one I’ve got to give my time to.”
How the Bear spent Sunday 203
“ Is he in as deeply as that ? “ she asked.
“Why the half million that Pickering got from him is a comparatively small part of the deal, of course; but he’ll give him the other half of it before the week’s out if I know John Bagsbury. He’ll see him through now, if he can. You see, the moral effect of having a big bank behind you is immense. It counts with the outside trading. Do you remember the time I first met John took him out to lunch I told you I was building a cyclone cellar in a bank ? I built it all right, but the wrong man got in.
“ Yes,” he went on after a moment of silence ; “it’s John Bagsbury who’s holding up that market. When he gets out from under, it’ll come down. You don’t have to knock out all the props, you know; one’ll do the business.”
“ But won’t he have to if all the directors “
“ Oh, most anybody else would, but John’s different. I sized him up right the first time I saw him. He knows what he’s in for, and he’s decided he’ll stay. I’m afraid it’ll take more than that Board of Directors to shake him out. The depositors “
He paused, and for a while sat thinking.
“ If something should scare the depositors into making a run on the bank you see only about half its business is commercial business ; the rest is savings. The big depositors wouldn’t scare. They’re stockholders mostly, and they know the old bank’s as solid as a fort. But if the little fellows who’ve got their savings in there once get the idea that it’s shaky, they’ll come, every man, woman, and child of “em, and get their money out inside of twenty-four hours. He’d have to shut
up for a while if they did that They won’t scare, though,” he said, rising; “and I don’t know that I’d want them to. I hope the directors’ll do the trick; but if they can’t, we’ll find some other way.”
He walked over to the telephone and called up Jervis Curtin.
“ You saw this morning’s Herald, I suppose,” he said. “Yes I’m coming over to see you this afternoon. I had a small dispute with Mr. Bagsbury the other day, and I’ve sold out my stock. I think we’d better come to an understanding, for his benefit, as to what our relations have been All right I’ll be over in about an hour.
“ I’m going to make another little call on
How the Bear spent Sunday 205
Cartwright first,” he explained to Harriet. “ I won’t be long at either place. I’ll be back for tea.”
Mr. Cartwright had taken his echo home with him after their disastrous interview that morn- ing, ostensibly for the purpose of consultation, but in reality to help him fulminate against John. They were still doing it when Sponley arrived, and between them they had worked up a fine rage. They were unaffectedly glad to see Sponley, and they showed it by redoubling the din and clamor of their outcry against the un- speakable rascality of the Banker.
Though Sponley had on the tip of his tongue the word that would correct their error, it looked for a while as though he would never have a chance to say it, for Mr. Meredith’s coda in- variably gave Mr. Cartwright breath enough to begin again. But at last there was a lull.
“ You’re mistaken in thinking that Bagsbury swindled you. Bagsbury is a perfectly honest man “
“ Honest ! “ they ejaculated.
“Though he does make a fool of himself sometimes. He did not sell you that stock.”
“He admitted it practically,” said Cart- wright.
“ He could not deny it,” said Meredith.
Whatever he said or did not say,” the Bear went on, “ he did not sell you that stock. I have come here this afternoon because I have just discovered that I sold it to you myself.”
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