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— Beaton? Crawley here, what’s… the what…? No still got one certificate down here, this last option he picked up it’s… that’s right… he paced a step away from the desk, two steps back as though chained there before the eyes fixed on him from all directions as his own rose to the door panel abruptly jarring the dismal black on gray pattern backed against it, breaking out with an arm reaching the scrimshaw handed through. — That’s right just call it a blind trust, better than going in there with this public disclosure drag things out for a month and… probably will yes I’ll send it up… and he got the phone down before Davidofif’s lurched — Monty wants… could reach it.

— Now then, you’ve got your certificate all we need is the…

— Excuse me Mister Crawley perhaps they’d all like to hear what it says before we…

— Sure it says, holy, it says two hundred ninety-three thousand shares it says this is to certify that the Emily Cates Moncrieff Founda…

— Here give me that!

— Give me that!

Davidoff rounded one end of the desk, Crawley the other sweeping open the door as he caught the certificate in mid-air, — Shirley!…

— But holy…

— The telephone’s lighting up hey…

— Hello? Davidoff here… He does? He did…? It is? Tell him I’m on my way, he hung up taking both hands to jam the Italian knit constriction at his throat still tighter, — brush fire, the boss wants me to get right up there I’d better take one of the cars, I think you can all fit into the other two they’ll be waiting downstairs, I’ll have everything on deck when you get there. Oh and Shirl…

Crawley got the door closed with his back against it. — Here’s our certificate, now do any of you little, you young people know what it’s worth?

A hand going up caught him in the ribs as he crossed the room. — The closing price of it was twenty-four dollars and sixty-three cents each.

— Twenty-four sixty-three, he muttered with a pencil, — plus the twelve and a half cents odd-lot differential…

— The what?

— The, stocks are usually bought and sold in round lots, a hundred shares. When we deal in less than that we call it an odd lot and there’s a little price differential yes, plus the broker’s commission…

— How much do you get?

— We’ll make it one percent, eh? Plus four cents…

— Mister Crawley, this might be an opportunity to show the boys and girls how your Quotron works, you might just push Diamond and see what’s happening to it?

— Mphh…

— Holy, two hundred eighty thousand that’s dollars?

— No no that’s, number of shares traded so far today yes quite a, quite an active issue.

— What’s that minus sign two and an eighth.

— Yes, off two and an eighth points, isn’t it.

— Dollars?

— Well yes in a, in a manner of speaking…

— So now it’s only twenty-two fifty and a half cents so we saved two dollars and twelve and a half…

— And who are you? said Crawley looking up abruptly as the door cracked slowly. — If you’re here to clean the typewriters they’re out there.

— I’m a, I’m the photographer are you Mister Davidoff?

— My God no. Come in, over there.

— But I was told that a Mister Davidoff…

— Come in if you’re coming and hurry up. Now then. Three, six, ten. Nine. That’s twenty-two ninety…

— That four cents, what was that four cents?

— What four cents.

— When you added in four cents.

— Four cents? Tax. Stock transfer tax.

— Oh. Hey Mrs Joubert how come he…

— Let’s not worry about it now boys and girls. You… she motioned to the slight figure strung with cameras, — if you’ll just get this, Mister Crawley? If you would just stand holding out the certificate to, yes that boy there and, yes, the money, get the money on the desk in…

— Like that… Good… Once more. All right. Now just once more looking this way, once more…

— Get off that table!

— Yes sir.

— I’m sure we have enough thank you, we’ve taken enough of Mister Crawley’s valuable time and, here, this way. Don’t forget our stock certificate and, no just leave the money there. I don’t think we have any more questions, do we…?

— Did you shoot that there pig Mister Crowley?

— Pig? That’s wild hog. A mean customer, wild hog.

— Would he hurt you?

— Hurt you? He killed three fine dogs.

— So that’s why you shot him?

— No, hunting. Hunt them with lances that’s right, right out that way… he came on, herding them along, — a mean customer… as the cropped head cupped in his hand turned sharply and he pulled back as though bitten.

— What kind of gun have you got?

— Gun? Got twenty of them. Here, keep with the others… what’s that you’ve got there.

— Nothing just, I just wondered if I could take a pamphlet or something, came from behind him — like this thing Capital Gains and Losses, and this…

— Take it. Take it.

— Mister Crawley he’s taking…

— stock guide, and this stock commission calculator…

— Take it, take them just come along…!

— Five, six, seven, Mrs Joubert counted at the elevator.

— What kind of a gun did you kill that thing with those horns with?

— Mannlicher here, look out there! Get off that desk…!

— Yes sir, I just wanted one more picture of… oh! I’m sorry, I’ll pick it up…