According to stockbroker regulations, entrusted information was to be kept absolutely confidential; what Montes had said just now was already enough to land him in prison. Graby, however, waved it off unconcernedly and said, "That isn't strange. You should have seen Mr. Sander's mansion on Bond Street. Buying that place must have cost quite a bit."
"Six thousand pounds sterling. That was the transaction price for the house. I asked around." Montes glanced around again, then continued, "And that's not all. When I was drinking with Mr. MacCartney before—yes, that senior trader from Lloyd's Bank—I accidentally heard him mention that Mr. Sander used company shares as collateral and borrowed more than ten thousand pounds sterling from him.
"This is very wrong. Sander has no use for that much money at all. He's always been single, and doesn't even have a mistress."
"Isn't Lady Damian his mis—"
"No, she isn't. Trust me," Montes said with certainty. Because that woman had been hooking up with him for more than a year.
Hearing this, Graby could not help frowning as well.
Just then, a middle-aged man with a short beard walked out of the cafe. Looking up and seeing the two of them, he immediately waved and said, "Charlie, Taylor, Bolton-Watt Company is announcing the latest progress on Engine 180 this afternoon. Are you two going together?"
Bolton-Watt Company had been the focus of the London stock market for the greater part of the past half year, and every broker paid very close attention to news about it.
"Of course. We can take one carriage."
Graby answered, then turned and patted his old friend. "Charlie, you may be being too cautious. Look, Bolton-Watt Company's new product will be able to enter the market very soon. That's a 180-horsepower 'monster'; it'll definitely make their