On a certain Monday morning, about a month later, Curtis Jadwin
descended from his office in the Rookery Building, and turning
southward, took his way toward the brokerage and commission office of
Gretry, Converse and Co., on the ground floor of the Board of Trade
Building, only a few steps away.
It was about nine o'clock; the weather was mild, the sun shone. La
Salle Street swarmed with the multitudinous life that seethed about the
doors of the innumerable offices of brokers and commission men of the
neighbourhood. To the right, in the peristyle of the Illinois Trust
Building, groups of clerks, of messengers, of brokers, of clients, and
of depositors formed and broke incessantly. To the left, where the
facade of the Board of Trade blocked the street, the activity was
astonishing, and in and out of the swing doors of its entrance streamed
an incessant tide of coming and going. All the life of the
neighbourhood seemed to centre at this point--the entrance of the Board
of Trade. Two currents that trended swiftly through La Salle and
Jackson streets, and that fed, or were fed by, other tributaries that
poured in through Fifth Avenue and through Clarke and Dearborn streets,
met at this point--one setting in, the other out. The nearer the
currents the greater their speed. Men--mere flotsam in the flood--as
they turned into La Salle Street from Adams or from Monroe, or even
from as far as Madison, seemed to accelerate their pace as they
approached. At the Illinois Trust the walk became a stride, at the
Rookery the stride was almost a trot. But at the corner of Jackson
Street, the Board of Trade now merely the width of the street away, the
trot became a run, and young men and boys, under the pretence of
escaping the trucks and wagons of the cobbles, dashed across at a
veritable gallop, flung themselves panting into the entrance of the
Board, were engulfed in the turmoil of the spot, and disappeared with a
sudden fillip into the gloom of the interior.
Often Jadwin had noted the scene, and, unimaginative though he was, had
long since conceived the notion of some great, some resistless force
within the Board of Trade Building that held the tide of the streets
within its grip, alternately drawing it in and throwing it forth.
Within there, a great whirlpool, a pit of roaring waters spun and
thundered, sucking in the life tides of the city, sucking them in as
into the mouth of some tremendous cloaca, the maw of some colossal
sewer; then vomiting them forth again, spewing them up and out, only to
catch them in the return eddy and suck them in afresh.
Thus it went, day after day. Endlessly, ceaselessly the Pit, enormous,
thundering, sucked in and spewed out, sending the swirl of its mighty
central eddy far out through the city's channels. Terrible at the
centre, it was, at the circumference, gentle, insidious and persuasive,
the send of the flowing so mild, that to embark upon it, yielding to
the influence, was a pleasure that seemed all devoid of risk. But the
circumference was not bounded by the city. All through the Northwest,
all through the central world of the Wheat the set and whirl of that
innermost Pit made itself felt; and it spread and spread and spread
till grain in the elevators of Western Iowa moved and stirred and
answered to its centripetal force, and men upon the streets of New York
felt the mysterious tugging of its undertow engage their feet, embrace
their bodies, overwhelm them, and carry them bewildered and unresisting
back and downwards to the Pit itself.
Nor was the Pit's centrifugal power any less. Because of some sudden
eddy spinning outward from the middle of its turmoil, a dozen bourses
of continental Europe clamoured with panic, a dozen Old-World banks,
firm as the established hills, trembled and vibrated. Because of an
unexpected caprice in the swirling of the inner current, some
far-distant channel suddenly dried, and the pinch of famine made itself
felt among the vine dressers of Northern Italy, the coal miners of
Western Prussia. Or another channel filled, and the starved moujik of
the steppes, and the hunger-shrunken coolie of the Ganges' watershed
fed suddenly fat and made thank offerings before ikon and idol.
There in the centre of the Nation, midmost of that continent that lay
between the oceans of the New World and the Old, in the heart's heart
of the affairs of men, roared and rumbled the Pit. It was as if the
Wheat, Nourisher of the Nations, as it rolled gigantic and majestic in
a vast flood from West to East, here, like a Niagara, finding its flow
impeded, burst suddenly into the appalling fury of the Maelstrom, into
the chaotic spasm of a world-force, a primeval energy, blood-brother of
the earthquake and the glacier, raging and wrathful that its power
should be braved by some pinch of human spawn that dared raise barriers
across its courses.
Small wonder that Cressler laughed at the thought of cornering wheat,
and even now as Jadwin crossed Jackson Street, on his way to his
broker's office on the lower floor of the Board of Trade Building, he
noted the ebb and flow that issued from its doors, and remembered the
huge river of wheat that rolled through this place from the farms of
Iowa and ranches of Dakota to the mills and bakeshops of Europe.
"There's something, perhaps, in what Charlie says," he said to himself.
"Corner this stuff--my God!"
Gretry, Converse & Co. was the name of the brokerage firm that always
handled Jadwin's rare speculative ventures. Converse was dead long
since, but the firm still retained its original name. The house was as
old and as well established as any on the Board of Trade. It had a
reputation for conservatism, and was known more as a Bear than a Bull
concern. It was immensely wealthy and immensely important. It
discouraged the growth of a clientele of country customers, of small
adventurers, knowing well that these were the first to go in a crash,
unable to meet margin calls, and leaving to their brokers the
responsibility of their disastrous trades. The large, powerful Bears
were its friends, the Bears strong of grip, tenacious of jaw, capable
of pulling down the strongest Bull. Thus the firm had no consideration
for the "outsiders," the "public"--the Lambs. The Lambs! Such a herd,
timid, innocent, feeble, as much out of place in La Salle Street as a
puppy in a cage of panthers; the Lambs, whom Bull and Bear did not so
much as condescend to notice, but who, in their mutual struggle of horn
and claw, they crushed to death by the mere rolling of their bodies.
Jadwin did not go directly into Gretry's main office, but instead made
his way in at the entrance of the Board of Trade Building, and going on
past the stairways that on either hand led up to the "Floor" on the
second story, entered the corridor beyond, and thence gained the
customers' room of Gretry, Converse & Co. All the more important
brokerage firms had offices on the ground floor of the building,
offices that had two entrances, one giving upon the street, and one
upon the corridor of the Board. Generally the corridor entrance
admitted directly to the firm's customers' room. This was the case with
the Gretry-Converse house.
Once in the customers' room, Jadwin paused, looking about him.
He could not tell why Gretry had so earnestly desired him to come to
his office that morning, but he wanted to know how wheat was selling
before talking to the broker. The room was large, and but for the
lighted gas, burning crudely without globes, would have been dark. All
one wall opposite the door was taken up by a great blackboard covered
with chalked figures in columns, and illuminated by a row of overhead
gas jets burning under a tin reflector. Before this board files of
chairs were placed, and these were occupied by groups of nondescripts,
shabbily dressed men, young and old, with tired eyes and unhealthy
complexions, who smoked and expectorated, or engaged in interminable
conversations.
In front of the blackboard, upon a platform, a young man in
shirt-sleeves, his cuffs caught up by metal clamps, walked up and down.
Screwed to the blackboard itself was a telegraph instrument, and from
time to time, as this buzzed and ticked, the young man chalked up
cabalistic, and almost illegible figures under columns headed by
initials of certain stocks and bonds, or by the words "Pork," "Oats,"
or, larger than all the others, "May Wheat." The air of the room was
stale, close, and heavy with tobacco fumes. The only noises were the
low hum of conversations, the unsteady click of the telegraph key, and
the tapping of the chalk in the marker's fingers.
But no one in the room seemed to pay the least attention to the
blackboard. One quotation replaced another, and the key and the chalk
clicked and tapped incessantly. The occupants of the room, sunk in
their chairs, seemed to give no heed; some even turned their backs;
one, his handkerchief over his knee, adjusted his spectacles, and
opening a newspaper two days old, began to read with peering
deliberation, his lips forming each word. These nondescripts gathered
there, they knew not why. Every day found them in the same place,
always with the same fetid, unlighted cigars, always with the same
frayed newspapers two days old. There they sat, inert, stupid, their
decaying senses hypnotised and soothed by the sound of the distant
rumble of the Pit, that came through the ceiling from the floor of the
Board overhead.
One of these figures, that of a very old man, blear-eyed, decrepit,
dirty, in a battered top hat and faded frock coat, discoloured and
weather-stained at the shoulders, seemed familiar to Jadwin. It
recalled some ancient association, he could not say what. But he was
unable to see the old man's face distinctly; the light was bad, and he
sat with his face turned from him, eating a sandwich, which he held in
a trembling hand.
Jadwin, having noted that wheat was selling at 94, went away, glad to
be out of the depressing atmosphere of the room.
Gretry was in his office, and Jadwin was admitted at once. He sat down
in a chair by the broker's desk, and for the moment the two talked of
trivialities. Gretry was a large, placid, smooth-faced man, stolid as
an ox; inevitably dressed in blue serge, a quill tooth-pick behind his
ear, a Grand Army button in his lapel. He and Jadwin were intimates.
The two had come to Chicago almost simultaneously, and had risen
together to become the wealthy men they were at the moment. They
belonged to the same club, lunched together every day at Kinsley's, and
took each other driving behind their respective trotters on alternate
Saturday afternoons. In the middle of summer each stole a fortnight
from his business, and went fishing at Geneva Lake in Wisconsin.
"I say," Jadwin observed, "I saw an old fellow outside in your
customers' room just now that put me in mind of Hargus. You remember
that deal of his, the one he tried to swing before he died. Oh--how
long ago was that? Bless my soul, that must have been fifteen, yes
twenty years ago."
The deal of which Jadwin spoke was the legendary operation of the Board
of Trade--a mammoth corner in September wheat, manipulated by this same
Hargus, a millionaire, who had tripled his fortune by the corner, and
had lost it by some chicanery on the part of his associate before
another year. He had run wheat up to nearly two dollars, had been in
his day a king all-powerful. Since then all deals had been spoken of in
terms of the Hargus affair. Speculators said, "It was almost as bad as
the Hargus deal." "It was like the Hargus smash." "It was as big a
thing as the Hargus corner." Hargus had become a sort of creature of
legends, mythical, heroic, transfigured in the glory of his millions.
"Easily twenty years ago," continued Jadwin. "If Hargus could come to
life now, he'd be surprised at the difference in the way we do business
these days. Twenty years. Yes, it's all of that. I declare, Sam, we're
getting old, aren't we?"
"I guess that was Hargus you saw out there," answered the broker. "He's
not dead. Old fellow in a stove-pipe and greasy frock coat? Yes, that's
Hargus."
"What!" exclaimed Jadwin. "_That_ Hargus?"
"Of course it was. He comes 'round every day. The clerks give him a
dollar every now and then."
"And he's not dead? And that was Hargus, that wretched, broken--whew! I
don't want to think of it, Sam!" And Jadwin, taken all aback, sat for a
moment speechless.
"Yes, sir," muttered the broker grimly, "that was Hargus."
There was a long silence. Then at last Gretry exclaimed briskly:
"Well, here's what I want to see you about."
He lowered his voice: "You know I've got a correspondent or two at
Paris--all the brokers have--and we make no secret as to who they are.
But I've had an extra man at work over there for the last six months,
very much on the quiet. I don't mind telling you this much--that he's
not the least important member of the United States Legation. Well, now
and then he is supposed to send me what the reporters call "exclusive
news"--that's what I feed him for, and I could run a private steam
yacht on what it costs me. But news I get from him is a day or so in
advance of everybody else. He hasn't sent me anything very important
till this morning. This here just came in."
He picked up a despatch from his desk and read:
"'Utica--headquarters--modification--organic--concomitant--within one
month,' which means," he added, "this. I've just deciphered it," and he
handed Jadwin a slip of paper on which was written:
"Bill providing for heavy import duties on foreign grains certain to be
introduced in French Chamber of Deputies within one month."
"Have you got it?" he demanded of Jadwin, as he took the slip back.
"Won't forget it?" He twisted the paper into a roll and burned it
carefully in the office cuspidor.
"Now," he remarked, "do you come in? It's just the two of us, J., and I
think we can make that Porteous clique look very sick."
"Hum!" murmured Jadwin surprised. "That does give you a twist on the
situation. But to tell the truth, Sam, I had sort of made up my mind to
keep out of speculation since my last little deal. A man gets into this
game, and into it, and into it, and before you know he can't pull
out--and he don't want to. Next he gets his nose scratched, and he hits
back to make up for it, and just hits into the air and loses his
balance--and down he goes. I don't want to make any more money, Sam.
I've got my little pile, and before I get too old I want to have some
fun out of it."
"But lord love you, J.," objected the other, "this ain't speculation.
You can see for yourself how sure it is. I'm not a baby at this
business, am I? You'll let me know something of this game, won't you?
And I tell you, J., it's found money. The man that sells wheat short on
the strength of this has as good as got the money in his vest pocket
already. Oh, nonsense, of course you'll come in. I've been laying for
that Bull gang since long before the Helmick failure, and now I've got
it right where I want it. Look here, J., you aren't the man to throw
money away. You'd buy a business block if you knew you could sell it
over again at a profit. Now here's the chance to make really a fine
Bear deal. Why, as soon as this news gets on the floor there, the price
will bust right down, and down, and down. Porteous and his crowd
couldn't keep it up to save 'em from the receiver's hand one single
minute."
"I know, Sam," answered Jadwin, "and the trouble is, not that I don't
want to speculate, but that I do--too much. That's why I said I'd keep
out of it. It isn't so much the money as the fun of playing the game.
With half a show, I would get in a little more and a little more, till
by and by I'd try to throw a big thing, and instead, the big thing
would throw me. Why, Sam, when you told me that that wreck out there
mumbling a sandwich was Hargus, it made me turn cold."
"Yes, in your feet," retorted Gretry. "I'm not asking you to risk all
your money, am I, or a fifth of it, or a twentieth of it? Don't be an
ass, J. Are we a conservative house, or aren't we? Do I talk like this
when I'm not sure? Look here. Let me sell a million bushels for you.
Yes, I know it's a bigger order than I've handled for you before. But
this time I want to go right into it, head down and heels up, and get a
twist on those Porteous buckoes, and raise 'em right out of their
boots. We get a crop report this morning, and if the visible supply is
as large as I think it is, the price will go off and unsettle the whole
market. I'll sell short for you at the best figures we can get, and you
can cover on the slump any time between now and the end of May."
Jadwin hesitated. In spite of himself he felt a Chance had come. Again
that strange sixth sense of his, the inexplicable instinct, that only
the born speculator knows, warned him. Every now and then during the
course of his business career, this intuition came to him, this flair,
this intangible, vague premonition, this presentiment that he must
seize Opportunity or else Fortune, that so long had stayed at his
elbow, would desert him. In the air about him he seemed to feel an
influence, a sudden new element, the presence of a new force. It was
Luck, the great power, the great goddess, and all at once it had
stooped from out the invisible, and just over his head passed swiftly
in a rush of glittering wings.
"The thing would have to be handled like glass," observed the broker
thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing "A tip like this is public property in
twenty-four hours, and it don't give us any too much time. I don't want
to break the price by unloading a million or more bushels on 'em all of
a sudden. I'll scatter the orders pretty evenly. You see," he added,
"here's a big point in our favor. We'll be able to sell on a strong
market. The Pit traders have got some crazy war rumour going, and
they're as flighty over it as a young ladies' seminary over a great big
rat. And even without that, the market is top-heavy. Porteous makes me
weary. He and his gang have been bucking it up till we've got an
abnormal price. Ninety-four for May wheat! Why, it's ridiculous. Ought
to be selling way down in the eighties. The least little jolt would tip
her over. Well," he said abruptly, squaring himself at Jadwin, "do we
come in? If that same luck of yours is still in working order, here's
your chance, J., to make a killing. There's just that gilt-edged,
full-morocco chance that a report of big 'visible' would give us."