But he's all right. Everybody's all right. Of course
the dummies' shares still stand in their names--on paper--
but in reality I've got them all in my safe--in my pocket
you might say. They are really mine, you understand.
So now there's nothing for us to do but to apply to the
Stock Exchange for a special settlement date, and meanwhile
lie quiet and watch the Jews stew in their own juice.
Or fry in their own fat, eh? That's better."
"But," she commented slowly, "you say there are no shares
to be bought--and yet as I understand it, there are those five
thousand that were sent out to the people who really applied."
"Bravo, Lou!" he answered her jovially. "You actually
do understand the thing. You've put your finger straight
on the point. It is true that those shares are out
against us--or might be turned against us if they could
be bought up. But in reality, they don't count at all.
In the first place, you see, they're scattered about
among small holders, country clergymen and old maids
on an annuity and so on--all over the country. Even if
these people were all traced, and hunted up, suppose it
was worth the trouble and expense, they wouldn't sell.
The bigger the price they were offered, the more mulish
they would be about holding. That's always the way
with them. But even if they did all sell, their five
thousand would be a mere drop in the bucket.
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