“It will go there of itself, I tell you.”

“If you run it up to two dollars it will be that top-heavy that the littlest kick in the world will knock it over.  Be satisfied now with what you’ve, got.  Suppose the price does break a little, you’d still make your pile.  But swing this deal over into July, and it’s ruin.  The farmers all over the country are planting wheat as they’ve never planted it before.  Great Scott, ‘J,’ you’re fighting against the earth itself.”

“Well, we’ll fight it then.”

“Here’s another point,” went on Gretry.  “You ought to be in bed this very minute.  You haven’t got any nerves left at all.  You acknowledge you don’t sleep.  You ought to see a doctor.”

“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Jadwin.  “I’m all right.  Haven’t time to see a doctor.”

So the month of May drew to its close, and as Jadwin beheld more and more the broken speculators, with their abject humility, a vast contempt for human nature grew within him.  The business hardened his heart, and he took his profits as if by right of birth.

His wife he saw but seldom.  Occasionally they breakfasted together; more often they met at dinner.  But that was all.

And now by June 11 the position was critical.

“The price broke to a dollar and twenty yesterday,” said Gretry.  “Just think, we were at a dollar and a half a little while ago.”

“And we’ll be at two dollars in another ten days, I tell you.”

“Do you know how we stand, ’J’?” said the broker gravely.  “Do you know how we stand financially?  It’s taken pretty nearly every cent of our ready money to support this July market.  Oh, we can figure out our paper profits into the millions.  We’ve got thirty, forty, fifty million bushels of wheat that’s worth over a dollar a bushel; but if we can’t sell it we’re none the better off—­and that wheat is costing us six thousand dollars a day.  Where’s the money going to come from, old man?  You don’t seem to realise that we are in a precarious condition.  The moment we can’t give our boys buying orders, the moment we admit that we can’t buy all the wheat that’s offered, there’s the moment we bust.”

“Well, we’ll buy it,” cried Jadwin.  “I’ll show those brutes.  I’ll mortgage all my real estate, and I’ll run up wheat so high before the next two days that the Bank of England can’t pull it down; then I’ll sell our long line, and with the profits of that I’ll run it up again.  Two dollars!  Why, it will be two-fifty before you know how it happened.”

That day Jadwin placed as heavy a mortgage as the place would stand upon every piece of real estate that he owned.  He floated a number of promissory notes, and taxed his credit to its farthest stretch.  But sure as he was of winning, Jadwin could, not bring himself to involve his wife’s money in the hazard, though his entire personal fortune swung in the balance.

Jadwin knew the danger.  The new harvest was coming in—­the new harvest of wheat—­huge beyond all possibility of control; so vast that no money could buy it.  And from Liverpool and Paris cables had come in to Gretry declining to buy wheat, though he had offered it cheaper than he had ever done before.