* * * * *

On the morning of June 13, Gretry gave his orders to young Landry Court and his other agents in the Pit, to do their best to keep the market up.  “You can buy each of you up to half a million bushels apiece.  If that don’t keep the price up—­well, I’ll let you know what to do.  Look here, keep your heads cool.  I guess to-day will decide things.”

In the Pit roar succeeded roar.  It seemed that a support long thought to be secure was giving way.  Not a man knew what he or his neighbour was doing.  The bids leaped to and fro, and the price of July wheat could not so much as be approximated.

Landry caught one of the Gretry traders by the arm.

“What shall we do?” he shouted.  “I’ve bought up to my limit.  No more orders have come in.  What’s to be done?”

“I don’t know,” the other shouted back—­“I don’t know!  Looks like a smash; something’s gone wrong.”

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!”

“Then God curse you, Sam Gretry, for the man who failed me in a crisis!” And, as he spoke, Curtis Jadwin struck the broker full in the face.

Gretry staggered back from the blow.  His pale face flashed to crimson for an instant, his fists clenched; then his hands fell to his sides.

“No,” he said; “let him go—­let him go.  The man is merely mad!”

Jadwin thrust the men who tried to hold him to one side, and rushed from the room.

“It’s the end,” Gretry said simply.  He wrote a couple of lines, and handed the note to the senior clerk.  “Take that to the secretary of the board at once.”