§ 218 The Light That Lies in Bankers’ Eyes
This offering has to do with a leading financier of a Middle Western city—a gentleman renowned for his personal vanity as well as for his cold-blooded sagacity in financial matters. The gentleman in question had a glass eye; but, so well did it match its fellow, that it was a point of pride with the owner that no one, lacking full information on the subject, could tell at a glance the artificial from the real one. His name was Oliver. One day, a citizen of the community, who was a chronic borrower, emerged from Mr. Oliver’s bank after an unsuccessful effort to negotiate a loan, and on the sidewalk met a friend.
“Say,” he said, “you know a lot of people in this town have never been able to tell which one of old Oliver’s eyes was his glass eye. Well, I know. I found out awhile ago when I was in there trying to get him to let me make a ninety-day note. All the time we were talking I was watching him and I finally caught onto the secret. It’s the left one.”
“How do you know it’s the left one?” asked his friend.
“Because it was the one that seemed to have a kindly human gleam in it.”