"If you don't mind," Langdon was going on, "I'll make a suggestion--merely
a suggestion. It might not be a bad idea for you to arrange to--to
eliminate some of the--the popular features from your--brokerage business.
There are several influential members of the Travelers who have a--a
prejudice--"

"I understand," I interposed, to spare him the necessity of saying things
he thought I might regard as impertinent. "They look on me as a keeper of a
high-class bucket-shop." "That's about the way they'd put it."

"But the things they object to are, unfortunately, my 'strong hold,'" I
explained. "You other big fellows gather in the big investors by simply
announcing your projects in a dignified way. I haven't got the ear of that
class of people. I have to send out my letters, have to advertise in all
the cities and towns, have to catch the little fellows. You can afford to
send out engraved invitations; I have to gather in my people with brass
bands and megaphones. Don't forget that my people count in the totals
bigger than yours. And what's my chief value to you? Why, when you want to
unload, I furnish the crowd to unload on, the crowd that gives you and your
big customers cash for your water and wind. I don't see my way to letting
go of what I've got until I get hold of what I'm reaching for." All this
with not a suspicion in my mind that he was at the same game that had
caused Roebuck to "hint" that same proposal. What a "con man" high finance
got when Mowbray Langdon became active down town!

"That's true," he admitted, with a great air of frankness. "But the cry
that you're not a financier, but a bucket-shop man, might be fatal at the
Travelers. Of course, the sacrifice would be large for such a small object.
Still, you might have to make it--if you really want to get in."