Instead of appearing thrilled, as he certainly should, he
smiled.
"Ah--yes," he observed, quietly. "That is what my friend has been doing,
I believe. Yes, indeed, just that."
Raish did not smile. He looked puzzled and a bit perturbed.
"What friend?" he demanded. "Been doin' what?"
"Hanging on and waiting, as you advise, Mr. Pulcifer. She has
had--ah--several shares of the Development stock and she--"
"Hold on! Did you come here to SELL somebody's stock for 'em?"
"Why, no, not exactly. But, as I say, a friend of mine has some and she
was anxious to know what it was worth at the present time. When I tell
her that you will give eighteen dollars a share for it--"
"Here!" Raish's smile and his urbanity had vanished. "Here," he
demanded, "what are you talkin' about? Who the devil said anything about
my givin' eighteen dollars a share?"
"Why, I understood you to say that the--ah--shares were cheap at that
figure, that it was a very low price for them. You did say that, didn't
you?"
Mr. Pulcifer seemed to find articulation difficult. He blew and
sputtered like a stranded porpoise and his face became redder than ever,
but he did not answer the question.
"I understood--" began Galusha, again, but a roar interrupted him.
"Aw, you understand too darn much," shouted Raish. "You go back and tell
Martha Phipps I say I don't know what them shares of hers are worth
and I don't care.
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