In Gretry's office Jadwin stood hatless and pale. Around him were one of the heads of a great banking house and a couple of other men, confidential agents, who had helped to manipulate the great corner.
"It's the end of the game," Gretry exclaimed, "you've got no more money! Not another order goes up to that floor."
"It's a lie!" Jadwin cried, "keep on buying, I tell you! Take all they'll offer. I tell you we'll touch the two dollar mark before noon."
"It's useless, Mr. Jadwin," said the banker quietly, "You were practically beaten two days ago."
But Jadwin was beyond all appeal. He threw off Gretry's hand.
"Get out of my way!" he shouted. "Do you hear? I'll play my hand alone from now on."
"'J,' old man--why, see here!" Gretry implored, still holding him by the arm. "Here, where are you going?"
Jadwin's voice rang like a trumpet-call:
"Into the Pit! If you won't execute my orders I'll act myself. I'm going into the Pit, I tell you!"
"'J,' you're mad, old fellow! You're ruined--don't you understand?--you're ruined!"