The flapper might start
the trouble any minute. But Breede had given him no chance for that
lovely speech. No good saying it unless you were nagged.
He became aware that the "Federal people" Markham had mentioned were
gathering in Breede's room. Several of them brushed by him. Let them
freeze him out if they could. He wondered what they said at meetings.
Did every one talk, or only the head director? Markham had said this was
to be an informal meeting.
It is probable that Bean would not have been much enlightened by the
immediate proceedings of this informal meeting. The large, impressive,
moneyed-looking directors sat easily about the table in Breede's inner
room, and said little of meaning to a tyro in the express business.
The stock was pretty widely held in small lots, it seemed, and the
agents out buying it up were obliged to proceed with caution. Otherwise
people would get silly ideas and begin to haggle over the price. But the
shares were coming in as rapidly as could be expected.
Bean would have made nothing of that. He would have been bored, until
Markham made a reference to fifty shares that happened to be owned by a
young chap in the outer office.
"Take 'em over," said one heavy-jowled director who incongruously held a
cigarette between lips that seemed to demand the largest and blackest of
cigars.
"He won't sell," answered Markham. "I spoke to him."
"Tell him to," said the director to Breede.
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