The Strode Venturer Read Online Free Page A

company. “Yes, I remember now. Some slick outfit thought they’d make a killing. The company owns seventeen vessels standing in the balance sheet at just over a million. The scrap value alone must be all of that and even in the present depressed state of shipping there’d be a market for the five newer vessels. Say a million and a half for them and half a million for the rest. That’s two million plus half a million cash. The capital is four and a half million in one pound shares which means that at five bob a share, which was what these boys were offering, they would have had the whole boiling for little more than a million.”
    “They offered me ten shillings a share,” I said.
    “And you didn’t take it?”
    I told him the whole story then, producing from my pocket the company’s photostat copy of the letter of acceptance my mother had signed. He read it through and then shook his head. “I can’t advise you on this and I doubt whether your solicitors could either. You’d need to take counsel’s opinion to find out whether it really was binding on you as the present owner of the shares. How many do you hold?”
    “Twenty thousand.”
    “Well, I can tell you this: you put twenty thousand on the market as it is at present and you wouldn’t get anywhere near two bob. Probably you wouldn’t get an offer. Still, it might be worth spending fifty quid for an opinion—just in case the boys who were after the company become active again. You never know. They may find a way of getting control. Let’s see what the market thinks.” He reached for the telephone and in two minutes had the answer. “Well now, this is interesting. Apparently they’ve switched theircampaign from Strode Orient to the parent outfit, Strode & Company. The jobbers say they can’t hope to get control through the market. As with Strode Orient, the public holds less than fifty per cent of the capital, but they’ve pushed the shares up from around eight shillings to nine shillings and sixpence in the past month so it looks as though some of the family may have sold out. Not that it helps you.” He sat back in his chair, swivelling it round to face me. “Pity your mother couldn’t have sold her shares when old Henry Strode was alive. I remember when I first started in as a stockbroker after the war Strode Orient were virtually a blue chip and stood at over four pounds, which meant that at that time her holding was worth all of eighty thousand.” He smiled. “But that’s the Stock Exchange for you. If you know when to buy and when to sell …” He gave a little shrug. “Maybe I live too close to it. I’m in and out of the market and I make a bit here and there, but as you see, I’m still working for my living.”
    I wasn’t really listening to him. I was thinking of what had happened to the Strode shipping empire since Henry Strode had died and what it meant to me. Eighty thousand! And now, even if I could find a way round the agreement, those shares were worth less than my gratuity. “Any point in going to the meeting to-morrow?” I asked.
    “The meeting? Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. The market is expecting the chairman to face some awkward questions. Could be some fireworks, in fact. Apparently one of the big institutions purchased a large block of Strode Orient shares when they were marked down on the death of the old chairman and they’ve been stuck with them ever since.” The phone rang and when he’d answered it he pushed the Ex Tel card across to me. “Henry Strode died in 1955 and the price of the shares in that year ranged from a low of forty-two shillings to a high of fifty-eight and six. Even around the low they must have paid more than twenty times the present price. That’s not a very good record for an institution.” He got to his feet. “I’ve got to go and deal for a client now. But I should go to the meeting if you’ve nothing betterto do.” And he added as he held the door open for me,