Age now – from his appearance, about thirty-five; from the record, forty-two.
I remembered he'd come to visit my father about ten years ago. He'd wanted then to float a public issue for the company.
My father had turned him down.
"No matter how good they make it sound, Junior," my father had said, "never let 'em get their hooks into you. Because then they run your business, not you.
All they can give you is money when the only thing that counts is power. And that they always keep for themselves."
I stared at Sheffield. "How're you goin' to guarantee the payments?"
His dark, deep-set eyes glittered behind the pince-nez bifocals.
'We're on the contract with the others, Mr. Cord," he said.
His voice was surprisingly deep for a slight man. And very sure of itself.
It was as if he did not deign to answer my question, as if everybody knew that Stewart's name on a contract was guarantee enough.
Maybe it was, but something about him rankled deep inside me.
"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Sheffield," I said politely. "I asked how the money was to be guaranteed.
I'm not a banker or a Wall Street man, I’m just a poor boy who had to leave school and go to work because his pappy died.
I don't understand these things.
I know when I go into a bank and they ask me to guarantee something, I have to put up collateral – like land, mortgages, bonds, something of value – before they give me anything.
That's what I mean."
A faintly cold smile came to his thin lips.
"Surely, Mr. Cord, you don't mean to imply that all these companies might not be good for the amount promised?"
I kept my voice bland.
"I didn't mean anything like that, Mr. Sheffield.
It's just that men who have had more experience than I, men who are older and know more, tell me that these are unsettled times.
The market's broke and banks are failing all over the country. There's no telling what might happen next.
I'd like to know how I’m goin' to be paid, that's all."
"Your money will be guaranteed out of income that the new company will earn," Sheffield said, still patiently explaining.
"I see," I said, nodding my head. "You mean I’ll be paid out of money you earn if I grant you the license?"
"That's about it," he said.
I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it.
"I still don't understand. Why can't they pay me all at once?"
"Ten million dollars is a large amount of cash, even for these companies," he said.
"They have many demands on their capital. That's why we're in the picture."
"Oh," I said, still playing it dumb.
"You mean you're going to advance the money?"
"Oh, no," he said quickly. "That's not it at all.
We're simply underwriting the stock, providing the organizational capital to make the new company possible.
That alone will come to several million dollars."
"Including your brokerage fees?"
"Of course," he answered. "That's quite customary."
"Of course."
He shot a shrewd look at me.
"Mr. Cord, you object to our position?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Not at all. Why should I?
It's not my place to tell other people how to run their business. I have enough trouble with my own."
"But you do seem to have some doubts about our proposition."
"I do," I said.
"I was under the impression I was to receive ten million dollars for these rights. Now I find I'm only guaranteed ten million dollars.
There's a difference between the two.
In one case, I'm paid outright, in the other, I'm an accidental participant in your venture, subject to the same risks that you are but with a limitation put upon the extent of my participation."
"Do you object to that kind of deal?"
"Not at all. It's just that I like to know where I stand."
"Good. Then we can get down to signing the papers." Sheffield smiled in relief.