Chapter 7: Where Wealth Casts Shadows

“Wealth glitters like gold. It draws in everyone lost in the fog of poverty.”

“They may not obtain enough wealth to shine themselves, but at least it can change their lives a little.”

Those words were William’s. In just a few short days, every news boss in Sabine knew there was a man who could quickly turn loose change into bills, and there was profit in it.

Large amounts of change kept rolling through William’s pockets and turning into whole bills. It was not only the news bosses doing it. Some newsstands and retail stores were doing it as well.

A three percent profit required no effort and carried no risk. To many people, perhaps that profit looked like only three cents.

But once the principal was large enough, it became a considerable number. One hundred dollars. One thousand dollars. All they had to do was hand the money to William, then take back more money. It was that simple.

According to the Baler Federation’s various laws concerning wages and working hours, along with the specific adjustments made by local statutes, an ordinary worker in Sabine City earned roughly two hundred to three hundred dollars a month.

If the work was more dangerous, the pay might be somewhat higher, but jobs like that were relatively few. Wages were more or less at that level.

Ten dollars was already equal to a worker’s full day of labor. But with William, no labor had to be paid at all. They only needed to give him money, then receive that money back.

Some people indeed looked down on it. But far more people did not.

Large quantities of change began to converge and appear, in an orderly fashion, inside the laundromat controlled by Mr. Fox.

One day a week later, when William pushed a handcart into the laundromat Mr. Fox controlled, two men in black wool trench coats, formal suits, small waistcoats, and white shirts appeared in front of him.

That made him understand why Fox had first said he did not look like someone from the federal executive departments. He had lacked this instantly recognizable outfit, and the arrogance on these men’s faces, the kind that seemed desperate for everyone to know exactly who they were.

“William?”

The man blocking the handcart casually called William’s name according to routine, then pulled open the front of his trench coat, revealing a leather badge wallet clipped to the pocket inside.