Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 83 Visiting Mr. Morgan (Seeking monthly votes and recommendations)
On Thursday morning, Larry got up at 6 a.m. to wash and shower.

After all, he was going to meet J.P. Morgan, one of the most famous bankers in contemporary and even American history, so Larry had to make thorough preparations.

After Morgan, there was a banking giant who single-handedly created the Federal Reserve, and that's not all. Even more astonishing is that he disdained to serve as the first Chairman of the Federal Reserve. But then again, it makes sense; the ruler above the gray fog has no need to reveal himself to the mortal realm.

While brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, Larry was still practicing how he should start a conversation with Mr. Morgan.

At 6:30, Larry went to the hotel's tea restaurant for breakfast.

This is the first restaurant in all of New York City to offer a buffet breakfast, and Larry only paid $2.5 for a hearty breakfast...

Larry watched as the waiter put his $2.5 into the cash box and thought to himself that, at a normal income, he would have to work for two days to afford this hotel breakfast.

But now Mr. Wallace is footing the bill for all of this, so he can spend it as he pleases.

Larry grabbed a copy of the Wall Street Journal and casually ordered some breakfast from the counter. Although it was a buffet, a respectable gentleman wouldn't serve himself; the breakfast would be brought to him by the waiters.

Larry found a table, sat down, and started browsing the news with a newspaper.

Coincidentally, the front page headline featured an interview with steel magnate Andrew Carnegie by a Wall Street Journal correspondent in the UK. By this time, some in the public sphere had already labeled the crackdown on workers on Sunday night as the "new Holmesburg Massacre" and were issuing moral condemnations against Mr. Carnegie.

When interviewed by a reporter from The Wall Street Journal, Mr. Carnegie firmly denied any involvement in the just operation to suppress the armed rebellion, stating that he was in Britain and knew nothing about it. He repeatedly emphasized that armed rebellion was unacceptable, although he personally considered such a just operation somewhat bloody.

At the end of the article, Mr. Carnegie repeatedly emphasized that he was the biggest victim of the whole incident because the blast furnace at the Boston steel plant exploded due to the workers' strike and sabotage, which would bring very large potential losses to Carnegie Corporation.

Larry sneered after reading it and casually tossed the newspaper aside.

At Larry's breakfast table, two British gentlemen were discussing how incredibly cheap things were in the New World. Even in the most luxurious hotels in New York, breakfast only cost 10 shillings...

They then began discussing the Franco-Russian military agreement that France and Tsarist Russia had just signed. This agreement was clearly aimed at the new German Emperor Wilhelm II, and they predicted that a war between the three countries was inevitable in the future.

The two gentlemen then naturally began to discuss how European countries were stepping up their gold reserves in the face of potential turmoil.

Larry sat there, listening attentively.

Trading gold is too unrealistic for Larry right now, but he could sell this information to someone capable, or short stocks in the market when the US gold market experiences a downturn.

After all, the United States' current dual standard of gold and silver makes it most vulnerable to the loss of gold.

This is an important event that Larry has been paying close attention to.

At 7:30 a.m. sharp, Larry arrived at Morgan's private library on East 36th Street, carrying a small suitcase full of documents.

Mr. Morgan did not usually prefer working in the company office; he preferred to stay in his private library. In addition to being a banker, he was also one of the most prestigious art and antiquities patrons in the United States.

Larry explained his purpose to the security guard in a black uniform at the door, who then called the office to inquire. Shortly afterward, a man dressed as a dignified butler, along with two security guards in suits, appeared at the door.

"Please come in, sir. Mr. Morgan is waiting for you on the third floor!" the butler said, his face expressionless.

Larry keenly noticed that the two security guards in suits naturally gathered around him.

The steam elevator reached the third floor, and upon exiting, one was greeted by an exceptionally spacious and brightly lit reception hall. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows provided ample light, and the room was also equipped with the finest incandescent bulbs from the Edison Electric Light Company, illuminating the hall. The butler stopped at a small table in front of the reception desk, turned to Larry, and said coldly,

"Excuse me, sir, we need to conduct a full body check to determine if you have brought any inappropriate items."

Larry nodded and handed over the small suitcase first.

He had anticipated this procedure and had left his handgun in the hotel room. Now, apart from the silver cross and belt buckle, he had no other metal belongings.

Two security guards in black suits came forward and carefully checked Larry twice. After confirming that there was nothing wrong with him, they nodded to the butler.

Beside the butler, two other security guards in suits also carefully checked the small leather suitcase containing the documents. After confirming that there were no problems, they nodded to the butler.

The butler nodded to Larry, then pointed with his right hand to an inner door with double doors. "Please follow me!"

Larry retrieved his small suitcase, perked up, and followed the butler inside.

The inner door opened, revealing four security guards in navy blue ties standing at the entrance. Behind the inner door sat a refined-looking, black-haired secretary wearing gold-rimmed glasses, seated behind a desk.

Upon seeing Larry, the secretary jumped to his feet and hurried over to greet him.

The secretary greeted Larry with a warm smile, as if he were an old friend she hadn't seen in ten years.

"Oh! Mr. Larry Livingston, I've been waiting for you here for ages. How was your trip? Which hotel did you stay at last night? If you're still feeling tired, I'll have them make you a glass of iced lemonade. That stuff will definitely wake you up instantly and make you wide awake."

Larry responded with a forced smile, but at the same time, he keenly noticed that the butler and the security guard in the black suit who had just greeted him hadn't stepped inside; instead, they had turned and retreated back into the reception hall.

The secretary's words were all polite small talk, but Larry felt as if the secretary were Mr. Wallace, knowing everything about his job and life.

A few perfunctory words of concern, but the underlying purpose was to elicit information about Larry's situation since arriving in New York.

Larry was on edge, knowing there was no need to hide it, and promptly told him the truth about his situation since arriving in New York.

The black-haired secretary, with a friendly smile on his face, led Larry to the living room outside the library and arranged for him to sit on a single sofa to await Mr. Morgan's summons.

There is no door from the living room to the Morgan Library. Larry sat on the sofa and could clearly see the 5-meter-high maroon bookshelves in the library, with rows and rows of books filled with books of various sizes and styles.

At the far end of the library, there was a large desk more than three meters long. A slightly overweight man sat behind the desk, holding a cigar in one hand and a stack of documents in the other, intently studying them.

Before the desk, an elderly man with gray hair and elegant clothes sat upright, his back straight, his hands on his knees, looking uneasy, as if he were a soul waiting for a verdict of "going to heaven or hell".

Behind the old man, on the two rows of seats, sat two or three relaxed-looking people. Larry immediately spotted Mr. Coster among them.

The library was eerily quiet.

"What the hell is this shit?!" the man behind the main table said coldly, tossing the stack of documents onto the desk, taking a puff of his cigar, and then addressing the elderly man in front of him.

"I'll give you three minutes to explain your railway company's profit prospects for the next five years! Otherwise, you don't need to waste our time here."

(End of this chapter)