The Lost Opportunity by Edwin Lefevre — Read

For many years Daniel Dittenhoeffer had desired the ruin of John F. Greener. "Dutch Dan," as the Street called Dittenhoeffer was a burly man with very blonde hair, a very red nose and a very loud voice. Greener was a sallow, swarthy bit of a man, with black hair and a squeaky voice. He had furtive brown eyes and a very high forehead; while Dittenhoeffer had frank blue eyes and the pugnacious chin and thick neck of a prize fighter. Both were members of the New York Stock Exchange but Greener was never seen on the "floor" after one of his victims lifted him bodily by the collar and dropped him fifteen feet into a coal cellar on Exchange Place. He would plan the wrecks of railroad systems as a measure preliminary to their absorption, just as a boa constrictor crushes its victims into pulp the more easily to swallow them. But the practice, unchecked for years, had made him nervous and soul-fidgetty.

Dan spent his days from 10 to 3 on the Stock Exchange and his nights from 10 to 3 at the roulette tables or before a faro lay-out. Restless as the quivering sea and suffering from chronic insomnia, he had perforce to satisfy his constitutional craving for powerful stimulants, but as he hated delirium tremens he gave himself ceaselessly big doses of the wine of gambling-it does as much for the nerves as the very best whiskey. He would buy or sell 50,000 shares of a stock and he would bet $50,000 on the turn of a card. On an occasion he offered to wager a fortune that he could guess which of two flies that had alit on a table would be the first to fly away. Greener found, in the Stock Exchange, the means to a desired end. Despite innumerable bits of stock jobbing, he had no exalted opinion, in his heart of hearts, of stock operations.