Adventure, December 1914 — page 157: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Come-On Charley Tries Out Wall Street Charley told him. “Don’t know what to do With it.” = “Let it alone,’ promptly counseled Mr. Ball. He shot a keen glance at Miss King. It may have carried with it a ray of suspicion - which she felt, for she said to him coldly: “It is my tip. I don’t understand the ways of the stock-market and was asking Mr. Carter to enlighten me.” “Oh!” said Mr. Ball. ‘‘She’s got a thousand beans to spill,’ in- terjected Mr. Teeters to clarify the situa- tion. “Oh!” said Mr. Ball again. » “What does she do with the wampum, Teddy?” persisted Mr. Teeters. “Hand it to a broker and begin to save again,’ returned the Scream man. “I had a tip once and didn’t get over it for a year.” ‘“‘How unfortunate!” condoled Miss King. There was a touch of irony in her tone. ‘““You wouldn’t advise me, then, to try my luck—not with a perfectly good tip? From the inside?” ‘“’They’re all from the inside,” Mr. Ball rejoined with a good-natured laugh. ‘But you want to know what to do with your thousand? All right. It will margin a hundred shares of Copper ten points. If you buy you'll make a hundred dollars for every point Copper goes up. If you sell you'll make the same for every point it drops. It’s only a little matter of getting in and getting out. If you guess right you can’t go wrong. Easy as counting the bris- tles in a brush.”’ : “Thank you so much!” said the lady with a mocking smile. ‘Nothing could be clearer.’’ She rose as she spoke. be going now. No, please don’t!” as the young men stood up. “I would much rather you finished your cigars in comfort.”’ For a moment she let her eyes linger on Charley’s. They held a question. ‘Half past eight?” they said, and Charley, read- ing the question but lacking skill in wireless telegraphy, semaphored the answer. It was a wink, honest and hearty as himself. Miss King turned, a little hastily, and swept down the room. Mr. Ball watched her go, and then he slewed around in his chair to Mr. Carter. ‘‘Where did you meet mother?” he in- quired pleasantly. ***Mother?’ Oh, I say, Teddy!” protest- ed Mr. Carter. “TI must 155 ‘Why, you kid,” hooted his friend, “‘she’s six laps ahead of you if she’s a minute. Thirty in the shade! What’s the game any- way?” Charley told him how they had met, and the program for the morning. ‘“‘Look here,” said Mr. Ball, when he had the story, “‘you keep away from Wall Street, Mr. Come-On Charley! Don’t mix up with it. These con men you’ve been playing horse with are baby dolls when you stack "em up against that bunch in Slaughter Al- ley. They’ll take your little trot covers off and send you home barefoot. It’s a gamble if they’d let you off that easy—you’d make good soap fat if they boiled you down.” “Take a twist around yourself, Teddy!” admonished Mr. Teeters. ‘‘You’re coming loose. We ain’t going for ourselves; we’re going for a friend.” “Sure,” said Charley. “Information.” Mr. Ball studied the two through a haze of smoke. Then he asked— “Ever see a tout?” ‘“‘What does it look like?’? Mr. Teeters wanted to know. “Sometimes,” said Mr. Ball slowly, “‘it looks like one thing and sometimes like an- other. And it bites! Hello! There’s Mack of the Nationals hailing me from the door. See you later.” He went away and left them to their re- flections. “Wonder what he meant?” pondered Charley. “Huh!” sniffed Mr. Teeters. ‘His wheels want winding up. He thinks they’re going when the works have stopped.” With this he pushed back his chair and arose. Charley didthesame. Then, as with one accord, they sauntered off in the direc- tion of the parlor-stairs. III MR. CARTER’S flaming-red tour- j ing-car stood before Gitt & Gott’s margin-shop down where the cypress It was half-past ten on Tuesday. grows. Mr. Carter and Mr. Teeters were inside in > Mr. Gott’s private office. Mr. Gitt was not about, but Mr. Gott had received them, when he learned their names, as if they were nearer to him than his relatives—a state- ment which, perhaps, the esteemed dear reader will know how to appraise. Mr. Gott was a little lean man of a most DOOK C©