“If I publish this, the price of wheat will instantly jump up.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Oh, that’s the evident object of the whole thing. If I prove that the wheat crop of America is from twenty-five to thirty per cent, short, up goes the price of wheat.”
“My dear Stoliker, your paper will sell like hot cakes, but no one will believe a word you say. Everyone on ’Change will think exactly as you do—that this is a device of the bulls, and so the price of wheat is likely to remain stationary for some hours. But this sensational and categorical statement is bound to make everybody uneasy, and there will be a good deal of telegraphing going on during the forenoon. By the time the evening papers are out, it will begin to dawn on commercial Chicago that you’ve done the biggest thing that’s been done for years. After that, every moment will enhance your reputation.”
“Quite so, if—and that ‘if’ is the biggest word in the dictionary just now—if this article is accurate. If it isn’t, then the reverse of all you have predicted will happen.”
“My dear Stoliker, I was quite prepared for this unbelief, I therefore took the precaution before the bank closed to get a certified cheque for a hundred thousand dollars, and here it is. Pay this into your bank tomorrow, and offer in your paper a hundred thousand dollars to anyone who will prove the report inaccurate. It has been compiled by a man I can vouch for, in the employ of the Wheat Belt Line, who has visited every spot mentioned in the report. Now, time is precious; I give you five minutes in which to make up your mind.”
“I don’t need them; my mind is made up. I’ll print it.”
Next day, events proved that Steele was no false prophet. Wheat fluctuated for a time up and down, then began to rise steadily, and at last shot up like a rocket, ending at eighty-three and a quarter. Before the week was out it was well over the dollar mark, and John Steele was richer by more than three millions of dollars. The night of the day in which he sold out he strolled into the Press Alliance offices and visited his perturbed friend Simmonds.
“I would like to see Mr. Nicholson again,” he said.
“Oh, curse him!” cried Simmonds, “he’s gone to New York; and I wish he had never left there. I suppose you don’t know what a hole he put us into, because you’re not interested in wheat.”