“Brown,” said Mr. John P. Greener, as he turned away from the ticker in the corner, “I wish you would go over to the Board and see how the market is for Iowa Midland. Find out how much stock there is for sale and who has it. It ought to be pretty well distributed about the Street.”

“What’s up in it?” asked his partner, curiously.

“Nothing—yet,” answered Greener, quietly.

He sat down at his desk and took up a letter, headed “President’s Office, Keokuk & Northern Railway Company, Keokuk, Iowa.” When he had finished the entire sixteen closely written pages, he arose and paced slowly up and down his office.

He was a sallow-faced, black-bearded little man, slender—almost frail looking—with a high but rather narrow forehead. His eyes were furtive, shifty bits of brown light. He was thinking, and thinking to some purpose. Any one, even a stranger, seeing him, would have known that he was thinking of something big—the forehead was responsible for the impression; and 132also of something tricky, unscrupulous, cold-blooded—his eyes were to blame there. At length his brow cleared. He muttered: “I must have that road. Then, a consolidation with my Keokuk & Northern; and a new system that will endure as long as the country!”

Brown returned in a half hour and reported. There was very little stock for sale below $42 a share—a few small lots held by unimportant commission houses. The vendible supply increased at 44, and at 46 “inside stock would come out,” which, translated into plain English, meant that whenever the price of Iowa Midland Railway Company stock rose to $46 per share, directors of the company or close friends of theirs would be found willing to part with their holdings. It was thus evident that the greater part of such stock of the Iowa Midland as the Street was “carrying” speculatively was not for sale at such a price as would be regarded in the light of a great bargain by Mr. John F. Greener, president de facto of the rival Keokuk & Northern Railway, but better known to countless “lambs” and widows and orphans and brother financiers as the Napoleon of the Street.

“Any supporting orders?” piped Greener. Stocks are “supported,” or bought on declines, 133so that the price shall not go down too much, and above all not too quickly.

“Bagley has orders to buy 300 shares every quarter of a point down until 37 is reached, and then to take 5,000 shares at that figure. He got them direct from Willetts himself.” Bagley was a broker who made a specialty of dealing in Iowa Midland. Willetts was the president of the company.

“Willetts,” squeaked Greener, “was in Council Bluffs this morning. He is to take part in the ceremonies of unveiling the Soldiers’ Monument, which begin at one o’clock—that is, within twenty minutes, allowing for difference in time. He will be out of the reach of the telegraph for the afternoon.”

Brown laughed. “No wonder they are afraid of you.”

“Brown,” said Greener, “start the movement by selling 10,000 shares of Iowa Midland. Divide it up among the boys on the floor. It would be well if the room were frightened by the selling. It is more important for us to get the price down than to put out shorts at high figures. I want that stock down.” If he had merely desired to sell the stock “short” he would have gone about it carefully, to disturb the price as little as possible.

134“If you want that I think you’ll get it,” said Brown. As he was going out Mr. Greener squeaked after him: “Keep them guessing, Brown; keep them guessing.”

“That,” mused Mr. John F. Greener, “ought to mean a three-or four-point break in Iowa Midland at the very least, and perhaps we can work through the peg at 37. We’ll see.” By the “peg” he meant the figure at which the supporting orders to buy were heaviest.

A few minutes later the Iowa Midland “post” on the floor of the Stock Exchange was surrounded by a dozen puzzled and apprehensive but gentlemanly brokers. And still a few minutes later the same spot was a seething whirlpool of maniacal humanity. It was appalling, the sight of these gesticulating, yelling, fighting, coat-tearing, fisticuffing brokers—appalling and vulgar, selfish, unpleasant, ungentlemanly but eminently typical. And all that caused the transformation was the fact that Mr. Brown had been seen whispering to Harry Wilson, and Harry Wilson had left him, gone to the Iowa Midland crowd, and sold 1,000 shares at 42? and 42. Then Mr. Brown had been seen speaking with W. G. Carleton in what struck witnesses as being a more or less agitated manner, and later Carleton had sauntered 135carelessly over to the Iowa Midland precinct, and, after displaying very great indifference about the world in general, but most particularly about the market for Iowa Midland, had sold 1,500 shares to Bagley, the specialist, at 41?, 41?, and 41?. Mr. Brown was now watched by two or three scores of sharp eyes, all having the same expression. And he was observed to look about him apprehensively and then begin to converse with Frank J. Pratt; whereupon Pratt, as fast as his fat legs would carry him, hastened to “Iowa Midland” and sold 2,000 shares at an average price of 41. The observant eyes had by this taken on a new expression—of indecision; but when they beheld Mr. Brown anxiously beckon to his “particular” friend, Dan Simpson, and saw shrill-voiced Dan rush like mad into the increasing crowd and sell 5,000 shares of Iowa Midland, apparently regardless of price, the observant eyes ceased to observe Brown. Activity was transferred to their owners’ throats as they thought to emulate Simpson and the rest of the Brown “whisperees.” Everybody scented danger, especially as the same “whisperees” had not “given up” the name of Brown & Greener as the real sellers, but had sold as though each Brown-talked man was acting for himself—which every other man in 136the room knew was out of the question, and which, in turn, increased the general uneasiness. It was a confident and yet a mystifying movement. It became more maddeningly perplexing when certain brokers, believed to be “close to the inside,” also began to sell the stock. Everybody started to do likewise. And everybody asked the same question—“What’s the matter?”—and received an avalanche of answers, all different but all unfavorable. One man said it was crop failures, another mentioned divers kinds of bugs, a third asserted it was extensive wash-outs and ruinous landslides, and bankrupting attacks by a socialistic legislature, and receivership probabilities.

Each of these was a good and sufficient reason why Iowa Midland stock should be sold. The comparison is odiously trite, but the growth of an adverse rumor in Wall Street really resembles nothing so much as the traditional snowball rolling down a hillside and becoming larger and larger as it rolls, until it is huge, terrific, with appalling possibilities for evil.

The Board Room became Iowa-Midland-mad. Speculators often stampede—just like other animals. No stock can withstand their rush to sell, even though it be “protected” or “supported” by its manipulators, much less a stock like Iowa 137Midland, whose market sponsor was out of town, and out of reach of the telegraph.

From all over the room men rushed to Brown, who was sitting calmly at the Erie “post,” chatting pleasantly with a friend.

“Brown, what’s up in Iowa Midland?” one of them asked, feverishly. The others listened eagerly.

Brown might have said, “I don’t know,” rudely, and turned his back on them. But he did not. He responded jocularly: “It seems to me that something is down in Iowa Midland, that something being about three points, I should say. Ha! ha!”

By this time nearly all the listeners had concluded that, since Brown refused to tell, there must be something serious—something very serious. Brown obviously was still selling the stock through other brokers, and would keep the bad news to himself until he had marketed his “line.” After that, probably he would become interestingly garrulous. They therefore advised their respective offices to get rid of their Iowa Midland stock. It might be all right; but it might be all wrong. And it was going down fast.

Mr. Greener in his office was looking at the “tape” as it came out of the little electrical printing 138machine that records the transactions and prices.

The sallow-faced little man permitted himself a slight—a very slight—smile. The tape showed: “IA. MID., 1000. 39; 300. 38?; 500. ?; 300. ?; 200. ?; ?; 300. 38.”

He turned away to summon a clerk, to whom he said: “Mr. Rock, please send for Mr. Coolidge. Make haste.”

“Very well, sir.”

A portly, white-waistcoated, white-haired man, with snow-white, short-cropped side whiskers, burst unceremoniously into the room.

“How do you do, Mr. Ormiston?” squeaked Greener, cordially.

“Greener,” panted the portly man, “what’s the matter with Iowa Midland?”

“How should I know?” in a half-complaining, half-petulant squeak.

“Brown started the selling. I saw it myself. Greener, I did you a good turn once in Central District Telegraph. I’m long 6,000 shares of this Iowa Midland. For God’s sake, man, if you know anything——”

“Mr. Ormiston, all I know is what I learn from my confidential reports of the Iowa crop. Along the line of the Keokuk & Northern the crop is 139not what I hoped for.” And he shook his head dolefully.

“Ticky-ticky-ticky tick!” said the ticker, calmly.

The portly man approached the little machine. “Thirty-seven-and-an-eighth. Thirty-seven!” he shouted. “Great Scott! she’s going down like a——” He did not finish the comparison, but rushed out of the office without pausing to say good-by. At one o’clock his 6,000 shares at $42? represented $255,000. Now, at two o’clock, at $37, the same stock would fetch about $222,000. A depreciation of $33,000 in an hour is apt to make one neglectful of the little niceties. An additional un-nicety was the obvious fact that an attempt to sell 6,000 shares on a declining market would inevitably cause a still further drop. Mr. Ormiston was excusable.

Again Mr. Greener summoned a confidential clerk.

“Mr. Rock,” he squeaked, placidly, “telephone Mr. Brown that Ormiston, Monkhouse & Co. are about to sell 6,000 shares of Iowa Midland, and that Mr. Coolidge must not pay more than 35 for it.”

“Mr. Coolidge is in your private room, sir,” announced an office-boy.

140The little financier, with an expressionless, sallow face, confronted his chief confidential broker. Their relations were unsuspected by the Street. Everybody thought Coolidge was a pleasant and honorable man.

“Coolidge, go to the Board at once. Ormiston is going to sell 6,000 shares of Iowa Midland. Get it as cheap as you can. Don’t be in a hurry, though.”

“How much shall I buy?” asked the broker, jotting down a few figures in his order book.

“As much as you can; all that is offered below 37,” squeaked the Napoleon of the Street. It was a Napoleonic order. “And, Coolidge, I don’t want this known by any one. Clear the stock yourself.” It meant that Mr. Coolidge was to put the stock through the Clearing House in his own name. As there is a charge for this service, in addition to the usual buying or selling commission, such steps are not resorted to unless it is desired to conceal the identity of the broker’s principal, should the latter be a fellow-member of the Exchange.

“Very well, Mr. Greener. Good-morning.” And the broker went out on a run. “Whew!” he whistled when he was in the Street on his way to the Stock Exchange, a few doors below. “Brown 141& Greener must be short at least 50,000 or 60,000 shares.” This was five times too much. But it showed that Mr. Greener was impartial in his distribution of erroneous impressions. He wanted to accumulate the stock rather than “cover” a short line; but there was no reason why even his most trusted broker should know it.

Ormiston’s 6,000 shares found their way to Mr. Coolidge’s office at from 34? to 35?. Mr. Brown in the meantime had succeeded in forcing down the prices by the usual tricks. The man who once had done Greener a good turn now did him another—the gift of $40,000!

In addition, Coolidge, employing several brokers, purchased 23,000 shares in all, which meant that Mr. Greener, after “covering” Brown’s early “short sales,” was in possession of fully 14,000 shares of the common stock of the Iowa Midland Railway Company, at a price averaging nearly 6 points lower than they could have been bought on the preceding day, which is to say $75,000 cheaper.

But Brown & Greener had made as much on their short sales, which was actually equivalent to having the lambs pay a man for the privilege of being shorn by him!

Such was the first of a series of skirmishes by 142means of which the diminutive Napoleon of the Street captured the floating supply of Iowa Midland stock, until he had no less than 65,000 shares safe in his clutches.

All the old tricks that he knew and new devices he invented were used to hide from the Street the fact that Mr. Greener was buying the stock on every opportunity. But beyond a certain limit extensive purchases of a particular stock cannot be concealed from the thousand shrewd men who make their living—a very good living, indeed—by not being blind. First one thing, then another, told these men that some powerful financier or group of financiers had bought enormously of Iowa Midland, “absorbing” unostentatiously all the stock shaken out by the violent fluctuations of the past few months. This fact and the remarkable improvement of business along the line of the road caused a “substantial rise” in the price of the company’s securities. But no one suspected the little Napoleon with the shifty eyes and the squeak and the genius, who had bought in the open market, through unsuspected brokers, and in Iowa from the local holders, by means of secret agents, until he had accumulated 78,600 shares.

Brown said to his partner one day, a little uneasily: “Supposing we can’t get any more stock, 143what are we going to do with what we have?” To try to sell it, however carefully, would be sure to break the market.

“Brown,” squeaked the little man, plaintively, “I have concluded that in case I can’t get enough stock to bring Willetts and his crowd”—the president of the Iowa Midland and his fellow-directors—“to my way of thinking, we had better sell the block we now hold to the Keokuk & Northern Railway Company at the market price of $68 a share. Perhaps we could even run it up a little higher. Our stock cost us on an average $51 a share. We could take our payment one half in cash and half in first mortgage bonds at a fair discount. The deal would be highly beneficial to the Keokuk & Northern Company, since, having such a large block of her rival’s stock, there would be no more fighting and rate-cutting. Our company would be a powerful factor in the Iowa Midland’s affairs, for we ought to have two or possibly three directors in their board.”

“Greener,” said Brown, “shake!”

“Oh, no; not yet,” squeaked the little man, deprecatingly.

Shortly afterward began a campaign of hostility against the management of the Iowa Midland Railway Company and President Willetts in particular. 144It was a bitter campaign of defamation, of ingenious accusations, and of alarming prognostications. All the newspapers, important or obscure, subsidized or honest, began to print articles of the kind technically known as “roasts.” The road, it was declared, had escaped a receivership by a sheer miracle. President Willetts’s incompetence was stupendous and incurable. There was, in sooth, some basis for the complaints, and many stockholders were undoubtedly dissatisfied with the Willetts “dynasty.” But not even the newspapers themselves knew that they were merely moving in response to wires artistically pulled by a financial genius of the first water. The stock once more declined. Not knowing who was fighting him, President Willetts was unable to defend himself effectively. Many timid or disgusted holders sold out. Mr. Greener gave no sign of life; but his brokers bought the stock offered for sale.

At length a well-known and talkative broker confided to an intimate friend, who told his intimate friend in confidence, who whispered to his chum, who told, etc., etc., that Mr. John F. Greener had been responsible for the fall and rise of Iowa Midland stock; that for months he had been buying it on the Stock Exchange; that 145he had quietly picked up some large blocks in Iowa. All of which was very sad, and, worse still, true. Also, that Mr. Greener now held 182,300 shares of the stock, which was even sadder, but untrue.

It really was very well done. The annual meeting of the company was only six weeks away.

The reporters rushed to Mr. Greener’s office. The little financier would not be seen. At length he reluctantly consented to be interviewed. He admitted, after a skilful display of unwillingness, that he had bought Iowa Midland stock. As............