Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

306 her that he, as well as Jerry Brent, could make money. That he wasn’t the waster he rather imagined she thought him to be. He left the car before a tall building not far from Wall Street, took the elevator to the tenth floor and stopped before a door marked, ‘“ Sims and Long, Brokers.” The offices inside were well equipped and had an air of stability about them as though they had been in existence for a re- liable length of time. A_ stenographer clicked at a typewriter in the corner. An office-boy stopped stamping letters and came forward. ““' Mr. Long’s out,” he volunteered, “ and Mr. Sims’s busy. D’y’ want to wait?” ‘“T came here to meet a Mr. Brent,” said Masters. “He said—” began the boy, and just then Jerry Brent himself came to one of the glass-topped doors. “Oh, Masters!” he said. “I was just coming out to tell the boy I’d see you when you came. We're so tied up we asked the kid not to let anybody in. Come right in to Mr. Long’s office! He’s out just now.” Jerry closed the door carefully after them, motioned his guest to a chair beside the flat-fopped desk, and seated himself before it. ““T didn’t have an idea there’d be an opening in this when I talked to you,” he began. ‘‘ But one of the men Sims offered this to had to drop out. Bad investments! Sims thought he was solid, of course, or he wouldn’t have let him in.”’ “T see,” said the other. “ Now, if you'll explain what this is—” “Oil, Mr. Masters. Perhaps you’ve heard of this oil strike in Texas — town called Mercer. Men making millions, you know!”’ : Masters found himself awakening to a quick throb of excitement. It made him feel as he had before a big game when he was full-back at college. “Yes. I’ve heard of it,” he said. ““ Well, Sims has managed to land some of the finest oil land in Texas. The big fellows down there were all trying to get their hands on it. It was a case of litiga- tion, you see. Sims went down, saw the land was pure velvet, and headed straight ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. for it. Took it right out from under their noses while they were still fighting. ‘Now he’s capitalized it for a million and is letting in just a limited number of good solid men. The thing is strictly sub rosa, you understand. He’d be mobbed if he let it out he was selling stock for Mer- cer Oil lands at par. Why, people out there are mad! Buying shares at any figure.” “J see. What is this new—er—com- pany called?” “The Mercer Development Company,”’ said Jerry. ‘“ He’s selling only ten thou- sand shares, so that doesn’t make a very big slice for the six or eight men he’s let- ting in on it. However, he said this morn- ing he’d let you have a thousand, if you cared about it. That’s the slice this fellow dropped.” ‘I’m very much interested in this,” said Masters, a thought of yesterday’s conver- sation with Davis warning him not to be too enthusiastic. ‘ Of course I would have to look into the matter a bit more.” “Look all you like!’’ laughed the other. ‘Only, of course, don’t spill the beans about this new project. Ask any one you meet about Mercer Oil and he’ll tell you! Why, look at the ticker now!” The two men bent in silence over the narrow white paper until it read, “ Mo. 217.” Masters consulted the index to as- sure himself that MO. stood for Mercer Oil. “Now,” Jerry continued, ‘if this idea really hits you, you might come in and see Sims. He’s the fellow that’s doing it, and can give you any pointers you want.” Sims, a bit overfat and heavy of jaw, with his clothes lacking the perfection of tailoring Jerry’s had come to achieve, rose to meet them. He spoke with a slow weightiness, in contrast to Jerry’s crisp enunciation; but the very deliberation of his speech gave it a ponderous reliability as though he were weighing each thing he said to be sure it was not a misstatement. “Perhaps you’d like to see the maps,” he suggested. “I had them made before I left Texas.” The three men bent over the blue-prints spread on the big desk. cS aniiiceLoxexe) (EO) m