At last, however, a clerk signed to them from a doorway, and they found Graham sitting before a littered table. A man sat opposite him with the telephone receiver in his hand.
“Sorry to keep you, but I’ve both hands full just now. Every man in this city is thinking wheat,” he said. “Has he word from Chicago, Thomson?”
“Yes,” said the clerk. “Bears lost hold this morning. General buying!”
Just then the door swung open, and a breathless man came in. “Guess I scared that clerk of yours who wanted to turn me off,” he said. “Heard what Chicago’s doing? Well, you’ve got to buy for me now. They’re going to send her right up into the sky, and it’s ’bout time I got out before the bulls trample the life out of me.”
“Quite sure you can’t wait until to-morrow?” asked Graham.
The man shook his head. “No, sir. When I’ve been selling all along the line! Send off right away, and tell your man on the market to cover every blame sale for me.”
Graham signed to the clerk, and as the telephone bell tinkled, a lad brought in a message. The broker opened it. “‘New York lost advance and recovered it twice in the first hour,’” he read. “‘At present a point or two better. Steady buying in Liverpool.’”
“That,” said the other man, “is quite enough for me. Let me have the contracts as soon as they’re ready.”
He went out, and Graham turned to Witham. “There’s half-a-dozen more of them outside,” he said. “Do you buy or sell?”
Witham laughed. “I want to know which a wise man would do.”