All La Salle Street was listening and watching, all Chicago, all the nation, all the world.Not a "factor"on the London 'Change who did not turn an ear down the wind to catch the echo of this turmoil, not an _agent de change_ in the peristyle of the Paris Bourse, who did not strain to note the every modulation of its mighty diapason.
"Well," said the little voice of the man-within-the-man, who in the person of Calvin Hardy Crookes sat listening to the ticker in his office, "well, let it roar.It sure can't hurt C.H.C.""Can you see Mr.Cressler?" said the clerk at the door.
He came in with a hurried, unsteady step.The long, stooping figure was unkempt; was, in a sense, unjointed, as though some support had been withdrawn.
The eyes were deep-sunk, the bones of the face were gaunt and bare; and from moment to moment the man swallowed quickly and moistened his lips.
Crookes nodded as his ally came up, and one finger raised, pointed to a chair.He himself was impassive, calm.He did not move.Taciturn as ever, he waited for the other to speak.
"I want to talk with you, Mr.Crookes," began Cressler, hurriedly."I--I made up my mind to it day before yesterday, but I put it off.I had hoped that things would come our way.But I can't delay now....Mr.
Crookes, I can't stand this any longer.I must get out of the clique.I haven't the ready money to stand this pace."There was a silence.Crookes neither moved nor changed expression.His small eyes fixed upon the other, he waited for Cressler to go on.
"I might remind you," Cressler continued, "that when Ijoined your party I expressly stipulated that our operations should not be speculative.""You knew--" began Crookes.
"Oh, I have nothing to say," Cressler interrupted."Idid know.I knew from the first it was to be speculation.I tried to deceive myself.I--well, this don't interest you.The point is I must get out of the market.I don't like to go back on you others "--Cressler's fingers were fiddling with his watch chain--"I don't like to--I mean to say you must let me out.
You must let me cover--at once.I am--very nearly bankrupt now.Another half-cent rise, and I'm done for.It will take as it is--my--my--all my ready money--all my savings for the last ten years to buy in my wheat.""Let's see.How much did I sell for you?" demanded Crookes."Five hundred thousand?""Yes, five hundred thousand at ninety-eight--and we're at a dollar nine now.It's an eleven-cent jump.I--Ican't stand another eighth.I must cover at once."Crookes, without answering, drew his desk telephone to him.
"Hello!" he said after a moment."Hello!...Buy five hundred May, at the market, right away."He hung up the receiver and leaned back in his chair.
"They'll report the trade in a minute," he said.
"Better wait and see."
Cressler stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, looking down into the street.He did not answer.The seconds passed, then the minutes.Crookes turned to his desk and signed a few letters, the scrape of his pen the only noise to break the silence of the room.Then at last he observed:
"Pretty bum weather for this time of the year."Cressler nodded.He took off his hat, and pushed the hair back from his forehead with a slow, persistent gesture; then as the ticker began to click again, he faced around quickly, and crossing the room, ran the tape through his fingers.
"God," he muttered, between his teeth, "I hope your men didn't lose any time.It's up again."There was a step at the door, and as Crookes called to come in, the office messenger entered and put a slip of paper into his hands.Crookes looked at it, and pushed it across his desk towards Cressler.
"Here you are," he observed."That's your trade Five hundred May, at a dollar ten.You were lucky to get it at that--or at any price.""Ten!" cried the other, as he took the paper.
Crookes turned away again, and glanced indifferently over his letters.Cressler laid the slip carefully down upon the ledge of the desk, and though Crookes did not look up, he could almost feel how the man braced himself, got a grip of himself, put all his resources to the stretch to meet this blow squarely in the front.
"And I said another eighth would bust me," Cressler remarked, with a short laugh."Well," he added, grimly, "it looks as though I were busted.I suppose, though, we must all expect to get the knife once in a while--mustn't we? Well, there goes fifty thousand dollars of my good money.""I can tell you who's got it, if you care to know,"answered Crookes."It's a pewter quarter to Government bonds that Gretry, Converse & Co.sold that wheat to you.They've got about all the wheat there is.""I know, of course, they've been heavy buyers--for this Unknown Bull they talk so much about.""Well, he ain't Unknown to me," declared Crookes."Iknow him.It's Curtis Jadwin.He's the man we've been fighting all along, and all hell's going to break loose down here in three or four days.He's cornered the market.""Jadwin! You mean J.--Curtis--my friend?"Crookes grunted an affirmative.
"But--why, he told me he was out of the market--for good."Crookes did not seem to consider that the remark called for any useless words.He put his hands in his pockets and looked at Cressler.
"Does he know?" faltered Cressler."Do you suppose he could have heard that I was in this clique of yours?""Not unless you told him yourself."
Cressler stood up, clearing his throat.
"I have not told him, Mr.Crookes," he said."You would do me an especial favor if you would keep it from the public, from everybody, from Mr.Jadwin, that I was a member of this ring."Crookes swung his chair around and faced his desk.
"Hell! You don't suppose I'm going to talk, do you?""Well....Good-morning, Mr.Crookes."
"Good-morning."
Left alone, Crookes took a turn the length of the room.
Then he paused in the middle of the floor, looking down thoughtfully at his trim, small feet.
"Jadwin!" he muttered."Hm!...Think you're boss of the boat now, don't you? Think I'm done with you, hey?
