“Hello-o! Hello-o!” a faint voice was calling. “Is this Colton's house at Denboro? . . . Yes, this is Davis. . . . The wire is all right now. . . . Is this Mr. Colton speaking?”
“No,” I answered, “Mr. Colton is here in the house. You may give the message to me.”
“I want to know if his orders hold. Am I to buy? Ask him. I will wait. Hurry! The market opens in five minutes.”
I put down the receiver. Now was my opportunity. I could back out now. Five minutes more and it would be too late. But if I did back out—what?
One of the minutes passed. Then another. I seized the telephone.
“Go ahead!” I shouted. “Carry out your orders.”
A faint “All right” answered me.
The die was cast. I was in for it. There was nothing to do but wait.
And I waited alone. I walked up and down the floor of the little room, looking at the clock and wondering what was happening on that crowded floor of the big Broad Street building. The market was open. Davis was buying as I had directed. But at what figure was he buying?
No one came near me, not even the butler. It was ten-twenty before the bell rang again.