“I’ll put Delavan in touch with you at the earliest possible moment,” promised Eben Moddridge. “And now, as my watch tells me it’s ten minutes to closing time on the Stock Exchange, I’ll wait right here for the day’s final news.”
As soon as he had turned away from the instrument Moddridge looked out through the glass door of the booth at the reporters hovering by the street door.
“There’s a side door out of this place, Halstead,” whispered the nervous one. “I don’t want to have to meet all those reporters again. Slip into another booth and ’phone the Eagle House to have Delavan’s car rushed down to the side door.”
Tom Halstead accomplished this, returning to the booth before Broker Coggswell called up Mr. Moddridge.
It was a few minutes after three when that call came.
“You, Moddridge?” demanded the New York broker’s voice.
“Yes, Coggswell.”
“P. & Y. has broken down to 86. If it goes to 85 in the morning, either you’ll have to put up extra collateral for your loans and Delavan’s, or the bankers will call in your loans.”
“Good heavens!” shuddered Mr. Moddridge.