“Do I? Well, I guess. I’ll fix that part O.K.,” said young Lazarus, complacently. He thought he would cover Greenbaum’s tracks so well as to deceive everybody, including that highly disagreeable man, Samuel Wimbleton Sharpe. He felt so confident, so elated, did the young man, that when he gave the order to his friend and club-mate, Willie Schiff, he raised it to 10,000 shares. Greenbaum’s breach of faith had grown from the relatively small lot of 2,000 shares to five times that amount. It was to all appearances short stock, and it was duly “borrowed” by young Schiff. It was advisable that it should so appear. In the first place no member of the pool could supply the stock which he held, because Sharpe could trace the selling to the office, as he had the numbers of the stock certificates. And, again, short selling does not have the weakening effect that long selling has. When stock is sold short it is evident that sooner or later the seller will have to buy it back; that is, a future demand for the stock is assured from this source, if from no other. Whereas, long stock is that actually held by some one. Isidore Wechsler, who held 14,000 shares, was suffering from a bad liver the same day that Greenbaum was suffering from nothing at all, not even a conscience. A famous art collection would be sold at auction that week, and he felt sure his vulgar friend, “Abe” Wolff, would buy a couple of exceptionally fine Troyons and a world-famous Corot, merely to get his name in the papers. “‘Turp,’ 62⅞,” said his nephew, who was standing by the ticker. Then old Wechsler had an idea. If he sold 2,000 shares of Turpentine at 62 or 63, he would have enough to buy the best ten canvases of the collection. His name—and the amounts paid—would grace the columns of the papers. What was 3,000 shares, or even 4,000, when Sharpe had made such a big, broad market for the stock? “Why, I might as well make it 5,000 shares while I’m about it, for there’s no telling what may happen if Sharpe should overstay his market. I’ll build a new stable at Westhurst”—his country place—“and call it,” said old Wechsler to himself, in his peculiar, facetious way so renowned in Wall Street, “the Turpentine Horse Hotel, in honor of Sharpe.” And so his 5,000 shares were sold by E. Halford, who had the order from Herzog, Wertheim & Co., who received it from Wechsler. It was short selling, of course. Total breach of faith, 15,000 shares.