“It is,” he said quietly, “too late for most of us. Still, we will not grudge you your good fortune, Dane. You and a few of the others owe it to Courthorne.”
Every eye was on the speaker, for it had become known among his neighbours that he had sold for a fall; but Barrington could lose gracefully. Then both his niece and Dane looked at Witham with a question in their eyes.
“Yes,” he said very quietly, “it is the turning of the tide.”
He crossed over to Barrington, who smiled at him dryly as he said, “It is a trifle soon to admit that I was wrong.”
Witham made a gesture of almost impatient deprecation. “I was wondering how far I might presume, sir. You have forward wheat to deliver?”
“I have,” said Barrington; “unfortunately, a good deal. You believe the advance will continue?”
“Yes,” said Witham simply. “Still it is but the beginning, and there will be a reflux before the stream sets in. Wait a little, sir, and then telegraph your broker to cover all your contracts when the price drops again.”
“I fancy it would be wiser to cut my losses now,” said Barrington dryly.
Then Witham did a somewhat daring thing, for he raised his voice a trifle, in a fashion that seemed to invite the attention of the rest of the company.
“The more certain the advance seems to be, the fiercer will be the bears’ last attack,” he said. “They have to get from under, and will take heavy chances to force prices back. As yet, they may contrive to check or turn the stream, and then every wise man who has sold down will try to cover, but no one can tell how far it may carry us, once it sets strongly in.”