“Do I think so? No, I don’t think so; I know so. Absolutely! Why, deacon, when H. O. Havemeyer and his friends buy Sugar as they’re doing now they’re never satisfied with anything less than forty points net. I shouldn’t be surprised to see the market get away from them any minute and shoot up before they’ve got their full lines. There ain’t as much of it kicking around the brokers’ offices as there was a month ago.”
“He’s buying Sugar, eh?” repeated the deacon absently.
“Buying it? Why, he’s scooping it in as fast as he can without putting up the price on himself.”
“So?” said the deacon. That was all.
But it was enough to nettle the tipster, and he said, “Yes, sir-ree! And I call that very good information. Why, it’s absolutely straight.”
“Is it?”
“Yes; and it ought to be worth a whole lot. Are you going to use it?”
“Oh, yes. I’m going to use it.”
“When?” asked the information bringer suspiciously.
“Right away.” And the deacon called: “Frank!” It was the first name of his shrewdest broker, who was then in the adjoining room.