I guess I'll go right over and see him while I got
it in my mind."

Milton Fiedler had served an arduous apprenticeship before he attained
the position of branch manager for Gunst & Baumer in the dry-goods
district. During the thirty odd years of his life he had been in turn
stockboy, clothing salesman, bookmaker's clerk, faro dealer, poolroom
cashier and, finally, bucketshop proprietor. When the police closed him
up he sought employment with Gunst & Baumer, whose exchange affiliations
precluded any suspicion of bucketing, but who, nevertheless, did a
thriving business in curb securities of the cat-and-dog variety, and it
was in this particular branch of the science of investment and
speculation that Milton excelled. Despite his expert knowledge, however,
he was slightly stumped, as the vernacular has it, when Abe Potash
produced B. Sheitlis' stock, for in all his bucketshop and curb
experience he had never even heard of the Texas-Nevada Gold and Silver
Mining Corporation.

"This is one of those smaller mines, Mr. Potash," he explained, "which
sometimes get to be phenomenal profit-makers. Of course, I can't tell
you offhand what the value of the stock is, but I'll make inquiries at
once. The inside market at present is very strong, as you know."

Abe nodded, as he thought was expected of him, although "inside" and
"outside" markets were all one to him.

"And curb securities naturally feel the influence of the bullish
sentiment," Fiedler continued. "It isn't the business of a broker to try
to influence a customer's choice, but I'd like you to step
outside"--they were in the manager's private office--"and look at the
quotation board for a moment. Interstate Copper is remarkably active
this morning."

He led Abe into an adjoining room where a tall youth was taking green
cardboard numbers from a girdle which he wore, and sticking them on the
quotation board.

"Hello!" Fiedler exclaimed as the youth affixed a new number.
"Interstate Copper has advanced a whole point since two days ago. It's
now two and an eighth."

Simultaneously, a young man in the back of the room exclaimed aloud in
woeful profanity.

"What's the matter with him?" Abe asked.

"They play 'em both ways--a-hem!" Fiedler corrected himself in time.
"Occasionally we have a customer who sells short of the market, and
then, of course, if the market goes up he gets stung--er--he sustains a
loss."

Here the door opened and Sol Klinger entered. His bulg