Felix deliberately waited until noon the next day before heading out. Before leaving, he selected two cans, one large, one small. The large one was for display. The small one would be opened on the spot.
His target was a shop in the Bowery District called Gable's Grocery Store.
Felix had observed this establishment for several days. It was clean and well-maintained, with a steady stream of customers. Most importantly, the owner, Mr. Gable, appeared to be a shrewd businessman who cared about product quality.
The bell above the door chimed as Felix pushed it open. Inside, the air carried mingled scents of coffee beans, tobacco, and cheese. Behind the counter, a gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses and meticulously combed hair worked an abacus, his fingers moving with practiced precision.
"Good afternoon, sir." Felix closed the door gently and approached the counter.
Mr. Gable looked up, scrutinizing the unfamiliar young man over his spectacles. His gaze lingered briefly on Felix's faded, worn clothes, but he showed no disdain, merely polite indifference.
"Can I help you, young man?"
"I'm not here to buy anything, sir. I'm here to offer you something that can make you money." Felix withdrew the large can from his cloth bag and placed it carefully on the oak counter.
Mr. Gable's eyebrow twitched. He'd seen too many door-to-door salesmen, peddlers of patent medicine, low-quality tobacco, and all manner of strange gadgets. He never had a favorable impression of such people.
"Canned goods?" He glanced at the container, disappointment creeping into his tone. "Son, do you know how many types of canned goods I have on my shelves? Oil-packed sardines from France, baked beans from Boston, local corned beef. They all have one thing in common, they don't sell well."
"That's because they're not good enough." Felix stated the problem directly.
This surprised Mr. Gable. He set down his abacus and looked at Felix with renewed interest.
"Oh? By your tone, young man, I assume yours is somehow different?"
"Of course, sir. First, there's safety. As you know, people are most concerned about food quality." Felix pointed to his can's seal. "Look here, no unsightly solder. I use a brand-new technology that achieves a complete seal and is absolutely lead-free. I think your customers, especially mothers with children, would happily pay extra for that peace of mind. I've also used new preservation techniques to extend shelf life."
Mr. Gable adjusted his glasses and leaned closer. The seam was indeed different, smooth and even, unlike any other can he'd encountered. His interest stirred.
"Second, there's the taste." Felix didn't allow him time to deliberate, withdrawing the small can. "Sir, seeing is believing. May I borrow your can opener?"
Mr. Gable studied Felix silently for several seconds, apparently judging whether this was genuine or mere salesmanship. Finally, the businessman's curiosity overcame his caution.
"Under the counter. Help yourself."
Felix thanked him and retrieved an old-fashioned opener that required considerable force. With a harsh metallic scraping, he worked the blade around the rim.
The moment he opened it, a rich aroma of meat broth burst forth, mellow, complex, irresistibly alluring. The scent was identical to what he'd given Mrs. Hudson, only now it filled the entire shop.
Two ladies browsing nearby stopped and turned, following the smell with obvious interest.
Mr. Gable's expression shifted. He'd sold food his entire life, his nose was sharper than most. He could tell this wasn't false aroma produced by spices and inferior meat, but the genuine complexity that came only from real beef and fresh vegetables stewed for hours.
Felix said nothing. He simply pried the lid fully open and pushed the can toward Mr. Gable.
Inside was thick, amber-colored broth with large chunks of tender beef, garnished with completely softened carrots and potatoes. The presentation was excellent.
"Hmm... This looks... remarkably good." Mr. Gable's Adam's apple bobbed.
He took a long-handled spoon from a nearby holder, dipped it into the can, and carefully brought the broth to his lips.
As it entered his mouth, his eyes widened. Fresh, fragrant, mellow, rich, all the flavors blended perfectly, leaving a hint of vegetable sweetness on his palate. He scooped up a piece of beef next.
The texture surprised him again. It was tender yet still had body, and the connective tissue had completely transformed into gelatin, creating an incredibly luxurious mouthfeel.
"What... what meat is this made from?" The question escaped before he could stop it. He could swear this was better than any beef stew he'd tasted in any restaurant.
"Beef brisket and shank, sir. Secondary cuts usually considered fit only for soup stock." Felix's tone was neither humble nor arrogant. He didn't mind revealing the main ingredients, the cooking technique wasn't the secret. The taste and sealed preservation were what mattered.
He also wasn't worried about price pressure. Whether something was delicious had little to do with ingredient costs.
Mr. Gable was completely stunned. He stared at the young man before him with disbelief. To make the cheapest cuts taste better than the most expensive, in his view, this wasn't ordinary cooking skill. This was alchemy.
"How do you plan to sell it?" After a moment of silence, Mr. Gable spoke, but his tone had completely changed. No longer an elder scrutinizing a junior, but a businessman questioning a potential partner.
Felix knew he'd succeeded.
"For the small one, about a pound, I suggest you sell it for forty cents. The large one, two pounds, for seventy-five cents. Your wholesale price, for now, will be twenty-five and fifty cents respectively."
Mr. Gable calculated quickly. The profit margin was considerable, but the price was significantly higher than ordinary canned goods on the market.
"The price is too high, young man. My customers might not accept it." He began to haggle, force of habit.
"So I have a second plan." Felix showed no concern, as if he'd anticipated this response. "For the first batch, I'll stock your store for free. Take twelve large cans and twenty-four small ones. For those sold, you pay me wholesale price. After one month, if any remain unsold, I'll take them all back. You incur no loss whatsoever."
A glint flashed in Mr. Gable's eyes. Zero risk! For a businessman, could there be a more appealing phrase?
This young man not only possessed remarkable skill but also understood business logic. Moreover, his confidence in the product was so strong he'd bear all the risk himself.
Mr. Gable hesitated no longer and extended his hand. "Then let's do it. What's your name, young man?"
"Felix. Felix Argyle." He shook firmly.
"Very good, Mr. Argyle. I look forward to your canned goods bringing me pleasant surprises." Mr. Gable pointed to the opened can. "This one, I'll buy at retail price. Forty cents."
He counted out the coins from his cash box and handed them over.
Felix accepted the heavy coins, the first real profit he'd earned in this era through his own wisdom and labor.
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Gable. I'll deliver tomorrow."
He turned and left. The door bell chimed again, its sound crisp and pleasant.
Walking back through the afternoon sun, Felix clutched the forty cents in his pocket, feeling warmth spread through his chest. This was just a tiny first step. But from Mr. Gable's grocery store, his canned goods would spread rapidly, occupying shelf after shelf throughout the city.
He believed it absolutely.
Felix kept his word. Early the next morning, he delivered thirty-six brand-new cans to Mr. Gable's store using a borrowed handcart.
Mr. Gable examined the neatly stacked containers, particularly their unique, smooth seals, and nodded with satisfaction. "Mr. Argyle, your craftsmanship, like yourself, is trustworthy. Now it's up to the customers."
"They will make a wise choice," Felix said, then departed.
For the next three days, Felix didn't bother Mr. Gable. Excessive attention would only make him appear unconfident. He used the time to purchase another batch of beef and ingredients with his remaining money, continuing to produce day and night in his basement workshop.
The aroma of stewed meat had become the permanent background scent of Mrs. Hudson's house. Though the stern landlady said nothing, there would always be an extra egg or slice of bacon beside the dark bread in Felix's breakfast basket.
By the afternoon of the fourth day, Felix decided to check on the situation. He'd even prepared for the worst, if nothing had sold, he'd take it all back and find another approach. After all, canned goods kept for a long time.
However, when he pushed open the grocery store door, the scene inside made him pause.
Mr. Gable stood behind the counter, his face showing a complex mixture of excitement and distress. Opposite him, a tall dockworker was shouting.
"What do you mean, 'none left'? Mr. Gable, I bought two cans of your 'Argyle' brand yesterday! You can't do this, my wife and children are waiting for me to bring this home to improve our meals!"
"Frank, I swear to God, there's not a single one left!" Mr. Gable spread his hands helplessly. "The small cans sold out yesterday, and the last three large ones were bought by a captain going on a long voyage half an hour ago!"
"Damn it!" Frank slapped his thigh in frustration. "Then tell whoever makes them to make more! This stuff is so much better than those overly salty cured meats, and it gives you real energy for the day."
Just then, Mr. Gable spotted Felix at the door. His eyes lit up as if he'd seen salvation itself.
"Frank, it seems your wish has come true. Look, Mr. Argyle is here."
Frank whirled around, staring at Felix with burning intensity. "You're Mr. Argyle? You made that stewed beef?"
"That would be me." Felix nodded with a smile.
"Good lad, you're something special!" Frank stepped forward and clapped Felix on the shoulder with a hand like a dinner plate, nearly making him stumble. "The cans you make are a blessing for us working men, convenient, delicious, filling, perfectly sealed, and long-lasting! When can you deliver more? I'll pre-order ten small cans!"
"I want to pre-order too!" Another customer approached. "My son's going to the mines out West, and he's worried about food on the road. Your cans are perfect!"
Felix was caught off guard by this sudden enthusiasm. He'd imagined many possibilities, but never such a response.
"Everyone, please, calm down." Mr. Gable came out to restore order. "Mr. Argyle's production is limited, but as soon as the next batch arrives, I promise to set some aside for you all."
After appeasing the eager customers, Mr. Gable pulled Felix aside, lowering his voice though excitement blazed on his face. "Argyle, you've created a miracle! I've sold groceries for twenty years, and I've never seen a new item sell this fast! Customers are practically fighting to buy them. Some even come from other districts just to try 'that can with the clean seal and amazing taste'!"
Felix's heart raced, but he forced himself to remain composed. Especially at moments like this, maintaining one's composure was crucial.
"Sir, it seems my judgment was correct. What people need isn't cheapness, but quality."
"Exactly, quality!" Mr. Gable waved emphatically. "So let's talk business. I'll settle payment for the last batch right now."
He withdrew money from the cash box, counted carefully, and handed it to Felix. "Twenty-four small cans at twenty-five cents each, six dollars. Twelve large cans at fifty cents each, another six dollars. Total of twelve dollars. Count it."
Twelve dollars! When the heavy coins and banknotes settled in his hand, Felix felt his heart skip. After deducting costs, he'd made a net profit of over five dollars from this batch, a huge sum in an era when ordinary workers earned that in a week.
Felix pocketed the money without excessive display of emotion.
"Good." Mr. Gable rubbed his hands and moved to the next topic. "Regarding the next batch, I'll buy outright from you. I need five dozen small cans and three dozen large ones. Cash payment, as long as you can deliver as soon as possible."
Five dozen small, sixty cans. Three dozen large, thirty-six. Nearly three times the first order.
"Mr. Gable," Felix considered carefully, "as you saw, demand far exceeded my expectations. Currently, my workshop is very small, I'm the only worker. To fulfill such a large order, I need more tools and raw materials. These incur costs..."
Mr. Gable was shrewd enough to understand immediately. "You mean you want to raise the price?"
"Not an increase, sir," Felix corrected. "It's to ensure quality and stable supply. If you want to pay the same price for the next batch, I'm afraid I'll have to prioritize customers willing to pay more. After all, you're not the only grocery owner who sees the opportunity here."
This was half truth, half calculated pressure. Felix believed other shop owners must have inquired about the cans these past few days.
Mr. Gable's expression shifted. He knew Felix was right, these cans were a golden goose he absolutely couldn't let fly away.
"All right. What price?"
"Small cans, thirty cents. Large cans, sixty cents. That's my bottom line." Felix quoted the new prices, five to ten cents more per can, significantly increasing his margin.
Mr. Gable frowned, calculating rapidly. Even with the increase, his profit margin remained substantial. With the advantage of exclusive supply, he could easily charge even more.
"Deal!" He finally agreed through gritted teeth. "But I have one condition: for one month, your cans in the Bowery District can only be supplied to me exclusively."
"Of course, Mr. Gable. That's no problem." Felix agreed readily. At this stage, he needed a reliable partner rather than spreading himself thin.
"Then I wish us pleasant cooperation, Mr. Argyle."
"Pleasant cooperation."
Walking out of the grocery store, Felix felt as if he were floating. The heavy twelve dollars in his pocket and the lucrative order ahead made the future suddenly visible.
He didn't head directly back to the basement. Instead, he took a detour to the East River docks. Watching ships set sail toward various ports around the world, observing sailors and workers bustling about their livings, an unprecedented ambition surged within him.
He believed Gable's grocery store was just the beginning. His goal was the cargo holds of these ships, the backpacks of soldiers heading to the front lines, and the dinner tables of people across this nation and the entire world.
"Canned goods are just the beginning," he whispered to himself, watching the ships disappear into the distance.