“Messrs. Townley & Tamms--regret that unforeseen circumstances--have caused an embarrassment in the affairs of the Starbuck Oil Company--but have decided to guaranty the coupons on the Terminal Trust bonds--until the property has been put upon a paying basis.--From those who prefer--Messrs. Townley & Tamms will take back the bonds sold by them--paying the price originally paid therefor, with accrued interest.” “There, sir,” said Mr. Townley to Charlie, “you will have five hundred copies of that circular dated to-day and printed immediately. And Mr. Tamms, you will kindly see that a copy is mailed to every one of our correspondents and clients--or our partnership may end at once.” “Certainly, sir,” said Tamms, calmly. “I presume you know what an amount of ready money this action may require?” “No, sir, I do not,” said Mr. Townley. “It may force us into liquidation,” said Mr. Tamms. “Fiddle-de-dee,” said Mr. Townley, as he rose and left the office. * * * * * Tamms looked after him long and curiously, as an artist might look after a retreating cow which had just knocked over his easel and trampled on his study of pastoral life. Charlie looked at Tamms. The hour for him to be upon the Stock Exchange had long since passed; but he still sat there, and nothing was said for some time. Finally Tamms took a bit of paper, and began to roll it up into little balls. “It is very unnecessary for Mr. Townley to take up such a quixotic attitude,” said he. “That sort of thing is all very well in Shakespeare.” And he threw his little balls of paper, with great accuracy, one into each of the three other corners of the room. “What shall I do, sir, about the circular?” “You must have it printed at once, and mailed, as Mr. Townley directed. But Mr. Lauer will attend to that.” (Lauer was the bookkeeper.) “This insane action of Townley’s will require considerable ready money. You must go to the board at once, and sell some Allegheny Central.” Tamms had endeavored to assume his slightly contemptuous air in speaking of his partner; but it seemed to Charlie that there was still a pallor in his sharp face that belied his jauntiness. “How much shall I sell, sir?” “All we’ve got,” said Tamms, curtly. Charlie nodded, and jumped up to leave the room. When he got to the street-door a clerk came running after him. “Don’t sell yourself--get Lawson, Rawson & Co. to do it,” said Tamms, as he turned back. Charlie nodded again, and was off. Now, Lawson, Rawson & Co. were Deacon Remington’s brokers; _ergo_ Tamms did not want people to know he was selling; _ergo_, he was selling in good earnest. It looked bad. And he had thought Tamms such a clever fellow!