Chapter 584: Schemes Within Schemes
Hyman was caught in a dilemma.
He worked hard so his family could have a better life, and gas lamps could clearly improve their quality of life significantly.
He looked at his wife: "How much do we have left in savings?"
"Eleven pounds sterling," the woman said, full of hope. "It's enough."
Hyman flashed a charming smile. "Alright, we'll buy a gas lamp."
A man was never more charming than when he declared, "Buy, buy, buy!"
His wife happily stood on her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the cheek, then hesitated. "Jim, do you think... this isn't some sort of scam, is it?"
It was understandable she'd be worried; scams were more plentiful than rain in London during this era, and people had grown accustomed to distrusting everything.
"Don't you worry about that," Hyman said, embracing his wife with a smile. "The gas streetlights at City Hall are already in use; I saw them myself. The mayor even gave a speech..."
"I was right behind the mayor, surrounded by reporters," Mr. Stephen Brook said, popping a piece of beef into his mouth. He addressed Old Brook, his father, seated opposite him at the dining table. "This is a project the entire city of London, even all of Britain, is watching closely. There's no way it could go wrong."
To the left of the table, a little boy was intently folding a paper boat from one of the Lightning Company's flyers.
Brook's wife quickly added, "Father, the newspapers say the distillation plant has been completed. That was the most difficult and expensive part of the project."
Old Brook nodded. "Eight pounds sterling isn't too expensive, if it's really as good as the company claims."
He then turned to his son, who held a minor official position at City Hall. "One thing bothers me. Why is that Lightning Company installing gas pipes for free? They could easily earn those ten pounds sterling."
Brook chuckled. "Because their project ran over schedule.
"That unlucky company, first their chief technician ran off to America with debts. Then a corpse was unearthed at the construction site, dragging them into a murder case.
"And in May, their coal storage was set ablaze by a madwoman...
"So, they failed to complete the work on time and now face substantial fines.
"To appease their shareholders, who weren't making a profit, the company had to find other solutions, such as selling gas lamps. They needed to sell a lot to make their financial statements look better.
"And to achieve high sales, they had no choice but to offer greater discounts."
This explanation, of course, came from his colleagues at City Hall, and the narrative itself was crafted by Mesmer.
To deceive everyone in London, Mesmer and Calonne had already considered every potential doubt and patched all the loopholes.
Even if Sherlock Holmes had been born in London at this time, he would likely have bought a gas lamp.
In the Lightning Company's General Manager's office.
Steller handed the sales list to Calonne, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "We've only sold just over 1,600 lamps. We spent more than four thousand pounds sterling on promotion, and after deducting the cost of the gas generation equipment, we've only made a profit of a little over two hundred thousand francs."
"It's only been a week," Calonne said with an unconcerned expression. "If you want to sell faster, raise the price of the gas lamps to eight pounds, ten shillings. Then spread the rumor that the price will go up again next month."
He waved a hand. "Besides, our main way of making money has never been just selling these gas lamps."
Steller asked, surprised, "There are other ways to earn money?"
"Indeed, Mr. General Manager. Right about now, Mesmer – oh, or rather, Baron Kevin Watson – should be making a 'big deal'."
A high-end cocktail party was underway in a classical-style villa on Kensington Street.
Attending were socialites and wealthy magnates, and in a corner on the west side of the party, Baron Watson was clearly a bit tipsy.
He no longer resembled the upstart he'd been in Austria. He was composed and capable, his manners elegant and proper. With his beard and spectacles, even if he returned to Vienna, no one would recognize him.
"Baron Watson, just give me a little insider information," a man in his thirties with handsome blue eyes pleaded, following him. "Even for my sister's sake."
At the mention of his sister, Mesmer's expression finally shifted. 'Ah, he had spent the night with Miss Helen Elvis.'
"You know already?"
"Yes, I know. Helen likes you, and I fully approve of your relationship. So, we're practically family now."
"Alright, Sir Elvis," Mesmer said with a helpless expression. "You absolutely must not tell anyone else."
"You can rest assured, my lips are sealed tighter than a cork in a wine bottle."
Mesmer set down his glass, cast a wary glance around, and gestured for Elvis to lean closer. He whispered, "The Lightning Company will issue high-interest bonds through the Commercial Credit Bank, with interest rates as high as thirty-five percent."
"Such high returns?!" Elvis exclaimed, astonished.
"Yes," Mesmer replied, his expression matter-of-fact. "You might not know this, but due to their outstanding performance on the London Gas Streetlight project, the Lightning Company is set to secure gas streetlight contracts for cities like Birmingham, Manchester, and Liverpool."
"Oh, and according to reliable sources, even the gas streetlights in Lille, France, will be handed to them for construction."
"Really?" Elvis's eyes widened. "That many cities are getting gas streetlights?!"
"Indeed, our Prime Minister isn't keen on being outdone by those Frenchmen. Paris got its gas streetlights early, so we'll ensure even more of our cities are illuminated by them."
"Why would Lille let them..."
"Ha, when you grease the palms of greedy officials, nothing is unexpected," Mesmer said. "However, launching so many projects in succession requires substantial financial support. And since the Lightning Company isn't willing to share projects with other companies, they've had no choice but to issue bonds."
Recalling the recent booming sales of gas lamps in London, Elvis had no doubt about the Lightning Company's capabilities. He immediately nodded. "I do have some money on hand; perhaps I could invest a little..."
Mesmer waved his hand. "You can't buy them yourself. Such high returns are only available for internal subscription."
Elvis, growing anxious, grabbed his arm. "You absolutely must help me."
Mesmer, unable to shake him off, finally sighed. "Alright, since we're family, aren't we? If the opportunity arises, I'll introduce you to Mr. Goldsmid."
The Commercial Credit Bank was Goldsmid's enterprise in Britain. Joseph had initially promised him some business interests, which were now being realized through the Lightning Company's bond dealings.
"Thank you so much!" Elvis exclaimed, overjoyed. "Helen meeting you is truly the greatest fortune of her life!"
Sir Elvis was by no means a foolish rich man; on the contrary, he had amassed considerable wealth and was undoubtedly a shrewd businessman.
The next day, he rushed to Birmingham to learn about the gas streetlight project there.
Comments