“How are things in the House?” Wingate enquired, as he resumed his seat.

“Uneasy,” Kendrick replied.  “B. & I.’s are the chief feature.  They show signs of weakness, owing to the questions in the House of Commons last night.”

“I’m a bear on B. & I.’s,” Wingate declared.  “What are they to-day?”

“They opened at five and a quarter.  Half-an-hour ago they were being offered at five and an eighth.”

“Very well,” Wingate replied, “sell.”

“How many?”

“No limit.  Simply sell.”

The broker was a little startled.

“Do you know anything?” he asked.

“Nothing definite.  I’ve been studying their methods for some time.  What they’ve been trying to do practically is to corner wheat.  No one has ever succeeded in doing it yet.  I don’t think they will.  My belief is that they are coming to the end of their tether, and there is still a large shipment of wheat which will be afloat next week.”

Kendrick answered an enquiry through the telephone and leaned back in his chair.

“Wingate,” he said, “I’m not sure that I actually agree with you about the B. & I. They have a wonderful system of subsidiary companies, and their holdings of wheat throughout the country are enormous,—­all bought, mind you, at much below to-day’s price.  If they were to realise to-day, they’d realise an enormous profit.  Personally, it seems to me that they’ve made their money and they can realise practically when they like.  The price of wheat can’t slump sufficiently to put them in Queer Street.”

“The price of wheat is coming down, though, and coming down within the next ten days,” Wingate pronounced.

Kendrick stretched out his hand towards the cigarettes and passed the box across to his friend.

“Why do you think so?” he asked bluntly.  “According to accounts, the harvests all over the world are disastrous.  There is less wheat being shipped here than ever before in the world’s history.  I can conceive that we may have reached the top, and that the price may decline a few points from now onwards, but even that would make very little difference.  I can’t see the slightest chance of any material fall in wheat.”

“I can,” Wingate replied.  “Don’t worry, Ken.  No need to dash into the business like a Chicago booster.  Just go at it quietly but unwaveringly.  I suppose a good many of the B. & I. commissions are still open, and there’s bound to be a little buying elsewhere, but I’m a seller of wheat, too, wherever there’s any business doing.  Wheat’s coming down; so are the B. & I. shares.  I’m not giving you verbal orders.  Here’s your warrant.”

He drew a sheet of note paper towards him and wrote a few lines upon it.  Kendrick blotted and laid a paper weight upon it.

“That’s one of the biggest things I’ve ever taken on for a client, Wingate,” he said.  “You won’t mind if I venture upon one last word?”