But Jim, 'twas I, 'twas I who sold Pennsylvania
every morning for a year, while the selling was explained by the press as
'Cassatt cutting down Gould's telegraph poles. Gould and old man
Rockefeller selling Pennsylvania to get even.' Jim Randolph, I have to-day
a billion dollars, not the Rockefeller or Carnegie kind, but a real
billion. If I had no other power but the power to call to-morrow for that
billion in cash, it would be sufficient to lay in waste the financial
world before to-morrow night. You are welcome, Jim, to any part of that
billion, and the more you take the happier you will make me, but when I
strike in again, don't attempt to stay me, for it will do no good."
Shortly after this talk Bob left for Europe with Beulah. A great German
expert on brain disorders had held out hope that a six month's treatment
at his sanitarium in Berlin might aid in restoring her mind. They returned
the following August. The trip had been fruitless. It was plain to me that
Bob was the same hopelessly desperate man as when he left, more hopeless,
more desperate if anything than when he warned me of his determination.
When he left for Europe "the Street" breathed more freely, and as time
went by and there was no sign of his confidence-disturbing influence in
the market, the "System" began to bring out its deferred deals.
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