Islands -- Fiction; Love stories; New England -- Fiction; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction
"Thirty cents, did I hear?" he continued, in a disgusted tone, "thirty
cents for this magnificent portrait! You can't mean it! Thirty cents for
a picture of one who cost some of you many thousands! Thirty cents! Ye
gods, how have the mighty fallen! Look at his winning smile, his
Websterian brow, his eagle eye that saw Rockhaven afar! And his
whiskers! And I am offered but thirty cents! Why, gentlemen, the frame
cost as many dollars, and think what an awful warning this picture will
be to most of you. Think of the beautiful tales he told, the great
industry he started, the money he spent--your money, gentlemen, and I am
offered but thirty cents! Why, it's worth a thousand dollars as an
object lesson in finance. Come, don't let this master of the stock
exchange be sold for thirty cents! It's a shame! Thirty cents, thirty
cents once, thirty cents twice, thirty cents three times, and sold for
thirty cents!" And the broker who bought it didn't want it at that.
The safe, with all the books it contained, was sold next, and then the
auctioneer, holding aloft an open deed with its red seal attached
said:--
"I now offer for sale the only real, tangible asset the great Rockhaven
Granite Company ever had, a deed of its quarry on Rockhaven Island. This
property originally cost two thousand dollars, and was the sole basis of
this gigantic scheme capitalized at one million! How much am I offered?"
A wag bid ten cents, another a dollar. Then came a bid of fifty. And
then Winn, who up to this time had been a silent spectator of the
comedy, felt a sudden intuition that here and now was his chance. He
thought of the island, still dear to his memory, of the men to whom his
coming had been a godsend, of Jess Hutton who, at parting, had offered
hand and heart, and of Mona and the little knot of flowers he had once
kept fresh in a tiny spring that bubbled out of this same quarry.
And thinking thus, he bid one hundred dollars.
But the auctioneer knew not of the fine sentiment prompting the offer,
and continued his burlesque:--
"One hundred dollars," he said, "one hundred offered for this property,
cheap at two thousand! What are you thinking of?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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