“After the close of the board to-day come to Mr. Whitemore’s office, and you will find Mr. Bradhurst and myself on deck. I will then go over certain plans I have in view and make clearer our future business relations.”
Vance and his friend then left, while Fox, after leaving a note for his partner, seized his hat and made straight for the Board of Trade.
It was twenty minutes past nine when Vance’s broker entered the board room.
The gong which started business would sound in ten minutes, and already the floor was filling up, while groups in earnest consultation were to be seen on the steps of both the wheat and corn pits.
Sid Carrington and Abe Palmer were standing aloof on the steps of the latter.
A triumphant smile played about the mouths of each of these bear operators.
For weeks they had been laying their plans, joining together subtle schemes for the overthrow of Jared Whitemore, but they had made but little way against the acute old fox, who had been gradually drawing together his control of the corn market.
Now the one man they had feared—the man who stood like a stone wall between them and the accomplishment of all their carefully conceived plans—had been suddenly put out of the fight.
Their chance had come at last, and they did not intend to do a thing with the corn market that morning.
Everybody interested was talking about the sudden misfortune which had occurred to Jared Whitemore, and not one but felt sure that one of the biggest slumps in the history of the board was about to set in.