Marrineal frowned. His cold blood inclined him to be deliberate; the
ophidian habit, slow-moving until ready to strike. He saw no reason for
risking a venture which became safer the further it progressed.
Furthermore, he disliked direct, unsolicited advice. Ignoring Ives's
remark he asked:
"How are his investments going?"
Ives grinned again. "Down. Who put him into United Thread? Do you know,
sir?"
"Horace Vanney. He has been tipping it off quietly to the club lot.
Wants to get out from under, himself."
"There's one thing about it, though, that puzzles me. If he took old
Vanney's tip to buy for a rise, why did he go after the Sippiac Mills
with those savage editorials? They're mainly responsible for the
legislative investigation that knocked eight points off of United
Thread."
"Probably to prove his editorial independence."
"To whom? You?"
"To himself," said Marrineal with an acumen quite above the shrewdness
of an Ives to grasp.
But the latter nodded intelligently, and remarked: "If he's money-crazy
you've got him, anyway, sooner or later. And now that he's woman-crazy,
too--"
"You'll never understand just how sane Mr. Banneker is," broke in
Marrineal coldly. He was a very sane man, himself.
"Well, a lot of the sane ones get stung on the Street," moralized Ives.
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