She did and, sure enough, three months later the stock split two for one. She now had twice as many shares as she originally purchased.
“Isn’t that wonderful, Archy!”
I forbore to mention she might have twice as many shares but hadn’t doubled her investment since each new share was now worth half the original. Nor did I inform her stock splits are usually announced months before they actually occur. I doubted if Edythe was aware of it—I couldn’t see her as an avid reader of The Wall Street Journal —but I reckoned Clemens knew of the coming split.
“Surely the stock investment didn’t increase your income,” I said.
She admitted the dividend from her common stock was less than the yield from her Treasury bonds. But then Fred had urged her to buy a very inexpensive stock not listed on any of the exchanges. It was issued by a new company with a unique product: a palm-sized vacuum cleaner, battery-powered, to be used for removing loose hair from cats and dogs. Less than a month after her purchase of 25,000 shares at a cost of about $30,000 (it was a very cheap stock) Fred told her he had sold the shares for more than $50,000, almost doubling her investment.
“I was absolutely stunned! I had no idea there was so much money to be made so easily. Then Fred put my investment funds in shares of a Bolivian tin mine and two oil well projects in Texas. The wells haven’t been drilled yet but last week Fred told me the shares of the tin mine were up forty percent. He wants me to hold them. He’s convinced their value will continue to increase. He estimated I may be able to double or even triple my money by the end of the year. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Incredible,” I said. “Mr. Clemens certainly seems to have the Midas touch.”
“Oh, he does! Definitely. Did your mother tell you about the Fabergé egg Fred wants me to buy?”
“I believe she mentioned something about it but didn’t go into detail.”
“Well, right now it’s owned by this man in France who needs money desperately to pay off a note that’s coming due. Otherwise he wouldn’t sell it because it’s very rare and very valuable. Fred says it was one of the last two eggs made by Fabergé for Czar Nicholas in 1917. But it was never delivered because of the Bolshevik Revolution, you know.”
Clemens had told her the egg was smuggled out of Russia in a diplomatic pouch carried by a courier from the French embassy in St. Petersburg. The bijou ended up in Paris but then, during the chaos at the end of World War I, the Fabergé Imperial egg had unaccountably disappeared. Whether it was mislaid, stolen, or destroyed, no one knew. Now, suddenly, it had reappeared in the art collection of a former banker who had made some rash investments and was cash-poor.
“Isn’t that an amazing story, Archy?”
“It is indeed, but no more amazing than some of the other happenings during those turbulent times. Tell me, Edythe, has Mr. Clemens actually seen the egg?”
“Oh yes. He flew to Paris immediately when his agent over there told him about it. Fred says it is an exquisite piece studded with diamonds. He gave me a color photo and it’s just gorgeous! How I’d love to own it. I’d be tempted to keep it and not put it up for auction. Of course it would mean sacrificing an enormous profit, and I’ll have to cash in some of my Treasury bonds to pay for it. Fred is very understanding and says it’s my decision to make.”
“Edythe, I’ve seen a few Fabergé Imperial eggs in art galleries and museums, and they all open up to reveal a ‘surprise’—like a party favor. Or a very expensive prize in a box of Cracker Jack! Did Mr. Clemens happen to mention what this egg contains?”
“Why, no, Archy, he didn’t. I must remember to ask him.”
“Do that—just for the fun of it.”
She glanced at her jeweled wristwatch. “Oh dear, it’s getting late and I must run. I’ll call Natalie to show you around my beautiful estate.”
“Before
“Isn’t that wonderful, Archy!”
I forbore to mention she might have twice as many shares but hadn’t doubled her investment since each new share was now worth half the original. Nor did I inform her stock splits are usually announced months before they actually occur. I doubted if Edythe was aware of it—I couldn’t see her as an avid reader of The Wall Street Journal —but I reckoned Clemens knew of the coming split.
“Surely the stock investment didn’t increase your income,” I said.
She admitted the dividend from her common stock was less than the yield from her Treasury bonds. But then Fred had urged her to buy a very inexpensive stock not listed on any of the exchanges. It was issued by a new company with a unique product: a palm-sized vacuum cleaner, battery-powered, to be used for removing loose hair from cats and dogs. Less than a month after her purchase of 25,000 shares at a cost of about $30,000 (it was a very cheap stock) Fred told her he had sold the shares for more than $50,000, almost doubling her investment.
“I was absolutely stunned! I had no idea there was so much money to be made so easily. Then Fred put my investment funds in shares of a Bolivian tin mine and two oil well projects in Texas. The wells haven’t been drilled yet but last week Fred told me the shares of the tin mine were up forty percent. He wants me to hold them. He’s convinced their value will continue to increase. He estimated I may be able to double or even triple my money by the end of the year. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Incredible,” I said. “Mr. Clemens certainly seems to have the Midas touch.”
“Oh, he does! Definitely. Did your mother tell you about the Fabergé egg Fred wants me to buy?”
“I believe she mentioned something about it but didn’t go into detail.”
“Well, right now it’s owned by this man in France who needs money desperately to pay off a note that’s coming due. Otherwise he wouldn’t sell it because it’s very rare and very valuable. Fred says it was one of the last two eggs made by Fabergé for Czar Nicholas in 1917. But it was never delivered because of the Bolshevik Revolution, you know.”
Clemens had told her the egg was smuggled out of Russia in a diplomatic pouch carried by a courier from the French embassy in St. Petersburg. The bijou ended up in Paris but then, during the chaos at the end of World War I, the Fabergé Imperial egg had unaccountably disappeared. Whether it was mislaid, stolen, or destroyed, no one knew. Now, suddenly, it had reappeared in the art collection of a former banker who had made some rash investments and was cash-poor.
“Isn’t that an amazing story, Archy?”
“It is indeed, but no more amazing than some of the other happenings during those turbulent times. Tell me, Edythe, has Mr. Clemens actually seen the egg?”
“Oh yes. He flew to Paris immediately when his agent over there told him about it. Fred says it is an exquisite piece studded with diamonds. He gave me a color photo and it’s just gorgeous! How I’d love to own it. I’d be tempted to keep it and not put it up for auction. Of course it would mean sacrificing an enormous profit, and I’ll have to cash in some of my Treasury bonds to pay for it. Fred is very understanding and says it’s my decision to make.”
“Edythe, I’ve seen a few Fabergé Imperial eggs in art galleries and museums, and they all open up to reveal a ‘surprise’—like a party favor. Or a very expensive prize in a box of Cracker Jack! Did Mr. Clemens happen to mention what this egg contains?”
“Why, no, Archy, he didn’t. I must remember to ask him.”
“Do that—just for the fun of it.”
She glanced at her jeweled wristwatch. “Oh dear, it’s getting late and I must run. I’ll call Natalie to show you around my beautiful estate.”
“Before
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