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

Chapter 274 Uninvited Guests at the Exhibition

Chapter 274 Uninvited Guests at the Exhibition

That afternoon, Larry arrived at the Dakota apartment and paid $5 for his seven-and-a-half-story duplex.

Larry then met with the designers and managers from Davenport and Sloan, two interior design companies brought by Mr. Thornton, and ordered $3 worth of furniture and interior decoration from them.

Of course, these pieces of furniture don't just belong to Larry's own set; they also belong to Mr. Dunbar's 7B set.

Every time Mr. Dunbar talked about his house, an unnatural expression appeared on his face. Clearly, he always felt that the house given to him by King Astor IV was too valuable. He felt somewhat guilty accepting it, as if he didn't deserve it.

In addition, he also found it very difficult to accept that Larry gave him furniture and decorations worth more than $1, because they were too expensive.

"...No, this is too valuable, Larry. I'm just a security guard, this..."

Dunbar's face showed an awkwardness and hesitation that shouldn't have appeared on his face.

Larry smiled and waved his hand to stop him from speaking. "Uncle Dunbar, since you have this opportunity, you should settle down in New York... Oh, by the way, we need to make sure they bring all the furniture over as soon as possible. Staying at the Astor Hotel every day, the hotel rooms are really not cheap!"

Dunbar hesitated for a moment, but then nodded heavily.

Larry smiled and patted his arm in comfort.

When King Astor IV gifted Dunbar the house, Larry had already decided that he would furnish it for him. Dunbar was his personal bodyguard, and he couldn't be stingy with his generosity towards someone so important to his safety.

This time, he used a New York bank check to pay the bill. Apart from the $5 he paid to Dakota Apartments for the house purchase, which was paid in cash, the furniture and renovations were only some initial deposits, but he paid $3000.

After completing the transfer of ownership of the mezzanine room, Larry received the design plans from Davenport & Co., supposedly in the same style as the Morgan residence. Looking at the Italian Renaissance-style plans, Larry was very curious about what the apartment would look like once it was actually finished.

However, these are all minor matters! For Larry right now, the most important thing is the expo on Sunday.
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The next morning, before 6:30, Matthew knocked on Larry's door.

Larry, still half asleep, opened the door and invited Matthew in to sit down. Then he plopped down on the sofa, struck a match, lit a cigar, and started smoking a "Resurrection" cigar.

"Want one?" Larry handed Matthew a cigar.

But he refused. Matthew came to report to Larry: Astor IV had already contacted the exhibition booth at the fair, and they were ready with the M1892 Pioneer pistol, Tesla's motor, and cash registers with electric motors.

Larry scratched his head, exhaled a puff of cigar smoke, and casually said, "Okay! You go ahead and set it up. Make sure to put the motor in the most conspicuous place. I'll be there in a bit; someone will be coming to inspect our motor patent today!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow and smiled, saying, "Are you that sure, my brother?"

“Of course!” Larry laughed, still pressing the cigar into Matthew’s hand. “When have I ever gone back on my word? If I say someone will buy our patent, someone will!”

Matthew stuffed the cigar into his jacket pocket, stood up, and said, "Yes, sir! I'll get to it right away. You know the address of the exhibition, right? See you at 9 o'clock."

"Okay! See you at 9 o'clock!" Larry rubbed his eyes and said goodbye to Matthew.

After Matthew left, Larry sat alone on the sofa and finished half a cigar. By then, Larry was somewhat sober, so he went to the bathroom, squatted on the toilet, and finished the remaining half of the cigar.

But less than five minutes later, there was another knock on the door.

Larry frowned as he listened to the urgent and rapid knocking. By the time he pulled up his trousers and went to the door, he heard Mr. Dunbar speaking outside, "What are you doing here, Logan? Why are you barging in like this? I thought some uninvited guest had arrived!"

Larry opened the door with relief when he heard it was Logan and Dunbar outside. He saw Dunbar loosen his grip on Logan, who was rubbing his arm with a pained expression.

"Logan? Why are you here so early!"

Logan's face was contorted with pain. He turned to Larry and said, "...Anna! Anna is gone, without a word. I took care of her for so many days for nothing, and she left without even saying goodbye."

Larry desperately held back his laughter, because he heard the broken heart of the simp.

After gathering his thoughts for a while, Larry put his arm around Logan's shoulder and led him into the suite, smiling and comforting him.

"Really, don't overthink it! You know that woman is a dangerous person; you can't handle her at all. Besides, what would it mean if she stayed with you?"

Logan looked blank, but he still stared at Larry.

“You’re right. I’ve spent so many days with her, and I’ve found that she’s not as simple as she seems on the surface… You know what? Anna has calluses on her right index finger. I asked her where they came from, and she said she was a dancer… But my dad’s a policeman. I could tell at a glance that it’s a feature that only someone who frequently uses a handgun would have.”

“Look! That’s the problem… Even if you two can stay together in the future, would you dare bring her to your father? He might see through her in ten minutes…” Larry said solemnly. Logan frowned and remained silent.

Larry, as usual, took a cigar, placed it in Logan's hand, and comforted him, "Don't overthink it, brother! God didn't bless this marriage of yours..."

As Larry said this, he saw Logan look up as if to argue with him, so he added, "...If God really blesses you, don't worry about her leaving, because you'll see her again soon!"

After saying this, Logan stopped talking.

After that, Larry spent more than an hour having breakfast with Logan and constantly trying to persuade him, finally calming the sycophant down a bit.

Larry told him to go home and get some rest, then gave him a bottle of whiskey and a box of cigars before sending him away.

But it was already 8:40 a.m., and we would be late for the Columbus Exposition.

Larry hurriedly took Dunbar to the exhibition.

The main venue for the exhibition commemorating the 400th anniversary of Columbus's discovery of the New World was located in Madison Square Garden. A temporary white exhibition hall in the Renaissance style was erected there and was called the "Columbus Memorial Hall".

The building's exterior is decorated with colorful flags and wreaths, and a newly unveiled bronze statue of Columbus stands at the entrance, with the golden inscription "1492-1892" on the base, symbolizing a span of four hundred years.

At 9 a.m., the square was already bustling with activity. Gentlemen in top hats and tailcoats mingled shoulder to shoulder with ladies in flowing skirts, the air thick with the smells of horses, tobacco, and roasted chestnuts from street vendors.

The exhibition hall is divided into several themed areas:

The history exhibit displays detailed models of Columbus's ships—the Santa Maria, Niña, and Peace Tower—scaled down to 1:10, with even the sails on the masts mimicking the folds billowing in the sea breeze. A replica of a 1492 nautical chart hangs on the map wall, marked with Columbus's routes in red ink, prompting visitors to pause and marvel at the rudimentary navigational technology and courage of the time.

The Industrial Achievements area highlights the technological advancements of the 19th century.

General Electric's incandescent lights shone brightly in the center of their booth, attracting onlookers; Bell Telephone's booth allowed visitors to try their first long-distance call, with a wire connecting to a temporary platform a hundred meters away, from which came intermittent shouts of "Hello, Columbus!"

The most eye-catching device was a simulated "storm forecaster"—inspired by early meteorology, it used the movement of leeches in a glass jar to predict the weather. Despite its questionable practicality, it became the focus of children's laughter.

The cultural and folk section was dominated by New York's Italian-American community. Stalls were piled high with Italian-style painted ceramics, olive oil, and wine. Folk artists played the accordion and sang Genoese folk songs.

Larry slowly squeezed his way through the crowded throng to Hall 1 of the expo. Matthew had said their booth was in the very heart of Hall 1.

Dunbar followed Larry at a leisurely pace, his eyes warily scanning their surroundings. One hand was placed on his chest, ready to reach for the automatic pistol tucked into his vest at any moment.

The two arrived at Exhibition Hall 1 without any incident, squeezed together.

Larry spotted Matthew from afar. At that moment, Matthew was chatting with a group of people, gesturing wildly with a pistol in his hand.

When Larry saw the group of people clearly, he stopped in his tracks. He had originally thought that the people from General Electric would have come earlier at the invitation.

But those surrounding the exhibition were clearly not General Electric people, but rather people interested in Browning pistols.

There were five people in the group, both men and women.

One of the young men, in his early twenties, was clearly the leader of the group. At that moment, he was enthusiastically discussing the performance of the pistol with Matthew.

Next to Matthew and the young man was a middle-aged man with black hair, dressed in clothes that were clearly European. He was nodding as Matthew introduced the pistol.

Is Matthew's gun going to be the first to go off this time? Larry wondered.

Just as he was about to take a step forward, Dunbar suddenly grabbed him.

Larry turned to Dunbar, looking at him with a puzzled expression. Dunbar, however, had a grave look on his face. He leaned closer to Larry, gestured with his chin, and pointed to the last person in the group—a pale-skinned woman—and whispered, "That's Anna!"

"Who? Who is Anna?" Larry hadn't reacted yet.

“…that female assassin who got shot, the simp’s bone,” Dunbar said.

(End of this chapter)

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