A Shared Confidence
receipt over carefully, imagining the fifty thousand dollars profit he’d earn that afternoon. After a quiet lunch – Ryland and Jimmy both lost in thoughts of what they’d do with their windfalls – and an hour killed at a local tourist attraction, the two men went back to the brokerage office. According to the share values posted for Bolivan National Rail, they were right on time.
    The same clerk recognized them at the window, and Ryland saw trouble in the young man’s face. The clerk apologized, excused himself, and disappeared into the back room. A moment later, he was followed back to the window by the thin, sere-faced manager. Fortunately, the office was nearly empty, and the manager explained in hushed, discreet tones that the check Ryland had used to purchase the stock that morning was no good. Why the clerk had accepted a check for so large an amount without verifying the funds first, the manager couldn’t imagine. The clerk broke in nervously, stating that these two gentlemen were friends of Mr. Stanton, after all, and he’d naturally assumed…and the manager’s icy glare silenced him in mid-sentence.
    Jimmy piped up hotly, basically wanting to know: So what? The stock had gone up, not down. If the check wasn’t good this morning, it damned sure was now. And anyway, it wasn’t their fault if the clerk goofed up. Ryland and Jimmy had a valid receipt for the stock and they wanted to sell their shares. Now, if you please! Ryland stepped in, apologizing for Jimmy’s tone but doing his best to restate these same points in more congenial terms. But the manager wouldn’t budge. There were strict rules and regulations, gentlemen. There were, in fact, laws. One could not simply purchase stock with thin air. Could they imagine how quickly the entire system would collapse if that were allowed? For that matter, presenting a valueless check for any type of transaction…the manager let his voice trail off, then confided quietly that his office could be in even greater trouble for having participated in this affair.
    At Jimmy’s insistence, the manager stepped into the back office and called Clay Stanton directly. Ryland waited a painful fifteen minutes near the window with Jimmy, listening for what scraps of conversation he could make out through the slightly open door: “It is most certainly not done all the time at this firm, sir, I can assure you…No, I’m sorry, it simply isn’t possible for me to…Of course, I value your patronage, Mr. Stanton, and I am happy to serve you and any of your associates, but you must understand this is a matter of law…” The conversation became quieter as it went on. Finally, the manager returned to the window with his best offer: he would hold the check for one week. If it could be made good in that time, the firm would honor both the purchase and sale of the shares. This was highly irregular, of course, but owing to Mr. Stanton’s excellent reputation, the manager was willing to go that far. If the check could not be made good in that time, he explained, then the proper authorities must be contacted and they all must face the music together.
    Back at their hotel, Ryland and Jimmy brainstormed furiously with Stanton. Nearly half a million dollars sitting right behind that caged window, legally theirs but for a single technicality. It was maddening! Stanton explained that nearly every cent of his own money was presently tied up in investments all over the country, part of his grand strategy, a strategy that would absolutely fall apart if this deal didn’t come off. He couldn’t possibly go to his other investors at this point and ask them for the money. Stanton had given his word that this deal would proceed exactly as specified. If his word were to come into question, if his investors caught scent of any kind of trouble…well, it didn’t bear thinking about. No, ten thousand dollars was
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