“I don’t know, I’m sure,” confessed Galusha.  “But—­”

“Don’t know?  You bet you don’t know!  Nor nobody else.  Not for quick returns, maybe—­though you can’t never tell.  But for a feller that’s willin’ to buy and put away and hang on—­say, how can you beat it?”

“I don’t know, but—­”

“You bet you don’t know!  The main thing is to buy right.  And I’m goin’ to put you wise—­yes, sir, wise to somethin’ I wouldn’t let every Tom, Dick, and Harry in on, by a consider’ble sight.  I think I can locate a fair-sized block of that stock at—­well, at a little bit underneath the market price.  I believe—­yes, sir, I believe I can get it for you at—­at as low as eighteen dollars a share.  I won’t swear I can, of course, but I may be able to.  Only you’ll have to promise not to tell anybody how you got it.”

“Eighteen dollars a share?  Is that a fair price, do you think, Mr. Pulcifer?”

“Fair price?” Mr. Pulcifer was overcome by the absurdity of the question.  “A fair price!” he repeated.  “Man alive, it’s a darned low price!  You buy Wellmouth Development at that price and then set back and hang on.  Yes, sir, that’s all you’ll have to do, just hang on and wait.”

To his surprise, Mr. Bangs seemed to find something humorous in this suggestion.  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.  You tell her I don’t want to buy ’em and I don’t know anybody that does.  Yes, and you tell her that if I did know anybody that was fool enough to bid one dollar of real money for ’em I’d sell him mine and be darn glad of the chance.  And say, you tell her not to bother me no more.  She took her chance same as the rest of us, and if she don’t like it she can go—­ Eh?  What is it?”