"It is apparent that an effort is being made to corner Venus Exploitation. The Exchange authorities have ordered, dealings in the stock suspended. Speculators short of stock may settle at the rate of two thousand dollars per share."
"Wow!" yelled Doc Kellog, and a moment later he was burning up the road to Neville & Beardsley.
The board room was crowded when he got there. All the big shots of Titan were present, not excepting Carmichael. There was sheer panic in the faces of some as they stared at the earlier bulletins, for Exploitation represented a heavy investment for most of them. Even Wolf's usually expressionless face showed concern as he saw his spare millions dwindle to half and less. He was so intent on following the damning figures that he did not notice the entrance of Kellog, or that he sat down beside him in the chair vacated by a haggard man who had just rushed despairingly from the room.
"It's more of Aalman's skulduggery, the pirate!" growled Carmichael to the fellow sitting on the other side. "He's looted the company, that's what. We're stuck. I'm getting out while I can."
He wrote an order and beckoned to Neville.
"The hell of it is," Wolf added, to his crafty-looking partner, "that while this order is getting to New York, the stock will drop forty points more. Damn that time lag!"
Neville approached, bowed respectfully, and took the order. He looked at it, then remarked:
"This is for more than you own. Are you taking a short position?"
"Right! The stuff's wallpaper. When Aalman milks 'em, they stay milked. Tomorrow I can cover at three. Get rid of this—quick."