Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 20th century
He stood for a moment irresolutely.
"I offer you two suggestions," he said: "the first is that the method
which our unknown operator is employing is not unlike the method of
Mr. George Baggin, who departed this life some time ago. The second
is that, if by any chance I am correct in my first surmise, we lay
this ghost for good and all."
CHAPTER XI
AT BRONTE'S BANK
It was two days later, when Consols touched 80, that T. B. Smith
gathered in Cord Van Ingen and marched him into the City.
The agitated Committee-man of the Stock Exchange met them in his
office and led them to his private room.
"I must tell you the whole story," he said, after he had carefully
shut and locked the door. "Last Wednesday, the market still rising
and a genuine boom in sight, Mogseys--they're the biggest firm of
brokers in the city--got a wire from their Paris agents which was to
this effect, 'Sell Consols down to 80.' They were standing then at
90, and were on the up-grade. Immediately following the wire, and
before it could be confirmed, came another instruction, in which they
were told to sell some gilt-edged stocks--this was on a rising
market, too--down to prices specified. I have seen the list, and
taking the prices as they stood on Wednesday morning and the price
they stand at to-day, the difference is enormous--something like
three millions."
"Which means----?"
"Which means that the unknown bears have pocketed that amount. Well,
Mogseys were paralysed at the magnitude of the order, and cabled away
to their agent, asking for particulars, and were equally dumfounded
to learn that they were acting on behalf of the Credit Bourbonnais,
one of the biggest banks in the South of France. There was nothing
else to do but to carry out the order, and on Thursday morning they
had hammered stocks down ten points--stocks that have never
fluctuated five points each way in mortal memory!"
The Committee-man, speaking in tones of reverence of these
imperturbable securities, mopped his forehead with a tumultuous
bandanna.
"Now," he resumed, "we know all the bears throughout all the world.
The biggest of 'em is dead. That was George T. Baggin, one of the
most daring and unscrupulous operators we have ever had in London.
We know every man or woman or corporation likely to jump onto the
market with both feet and set it sagging--but there isn't a single
known bear who has a hand in this. We've tried to discover his
identity, but we've always come up against a blank wall--the bank.
The bank can't give away its client, and, even if it did, I doubt
very much whether we should be any the wiser, for he's pretty sure to
have hidden himself too deep. We'd probably find the bank was
instructed by a broker and the broker by another bank, and we'd be as
far off a solution as ever."
"Is there any cause for the present break?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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