“Haven’t you enough with those two checks?”
“Those checks? Oh, I know, I know, I know I’ll salt ’em down. Yes, in the Illinois Trust. I won’t touch ’em—not those. But just a little tip now, hey?”
“Not a word. Not a word. Take him along, Kinzie.”
One week after this Jadwin sold, through his agents in Paris, a tremendous line of “cash” wheat at a dollar and sixty cents the bushel. By now the foreign demand was a thing almost insensate. There was no question as to the price. It was, “Give us the wheat, at whatever cost, at whatever figure, at whatever expense; only that it be rushed to our markets with all the swiftness of steam and steel.” At home, upon the Chicago Board of Trade, Jadwin was as completely master of the market as of his own right hand. Everything stopped when he raised a finger; everything leaped to life with the fury of obsession when he nodded his head. His wealth increased with such stupefying rapidity, that at no time was he able to even approximate the gains that accrued to him because of his corner. It was more than twenty million, and less than fifty million. That was all he knew. Nor were the everlasting hills more secure than he from the attack of any human enemy. Out of the ranks of the conquered there issued not so much as a whisper of hostility. Within his own sphere no Czar, no satrap, no Caesar ever wielded power more resistless.
“Sam,” said Curtis Jadwin, at length to the broker, “Sam, nothing in the world can stop me now. They think I’ve been doing something big, don’t they, with this corner. Why, I’ve only just begun. This is just a feeler. Now I’m going to let ’em know just how big a gun C. J. really is. I’m going to swing this deal right over into July. I’m going to buy in my July shorts.”
The two men were in Gretry’s office as usual, and as Jadwin spoke, the broker glanced up incredulously.
“Now you are for sure crazy.”
Jadwin jumped to his feet.
“Crazy!” he vociferated. “Crazy! What do you mean? Crazy! For God’s sake, Sam, what—Look here, don’t use that word to me. I—it don’t suit. What I’ve done isn’t exactly the work of—of—takes brains, let me tell you. And look here, look here, I say, I’m going to swing this deal right over into July. Think I’m going to let go now, when I’ve just begun to get a real grip on things? A pretty fool I’d look like to get out now—even if I could. Get out? How are we going to unload our big line of wheat without breaking the price on us? No, sir, not much. This market is going up to two dollars.” He smote a knee with his clinched fist, his face going abruptly crimson. “I say two dollars,” he cried. “Two dollars, do you hear? It will go there, you’ll see, you’ll see.”
“Reports on the new crop will begin to come in in June.” Gretry’s warning was almost a cry. “The price of wheat is so high now, that God knows how many farmers will plant it this spring. You may have to take care of a record harvest.”
“I know better,” retorted Jadwin. “I’m watching this thing. You can’t tell me anything about it. I’ve got it all figured out, your ‘new crop.’ ”
“Well, then you’re the Lord Almighty himself.”
“I don’t like that kind of joke. I don’t like that kind of joke. It’s blasphemous,” exclaimed Jadwin. “Go, get it off on Crookes. He’d appreciate it, but I don’t. But this new crop now—look here.”
And for upwards of two hours Jadwin argued and figured, and showed to Gretry endless tables of statistics to prove that he was right.
But at the end Gretry shook his head. Calmly and deliberately he spoke his mind.
“J., listen to me. You’ve done a big thing. I know it, and I know, too, that there’ve been lots of times in the last year or so when I’ve been wrong and you’ve been right. But now, J., so help me God, we’ve reached our limit. Wheat is worth a dollar and a half today, and not one cent more. Every eighth over that figure is inflation. If you run it up to two dollars—”
“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 got. J., it’s common sense. Close out your long line of May, and then stop. Suppose the price does break a little, you’d still make your pile. But swing this deal over into July, and it’s ruin, ruin. I may have been mistaken before, but I know I’m right now. And do you realise, J., that yesterday in the Pit there were some short sales? There’s some of them dared to go short of wheat against you—even at the very top of your corner—and there was more selling this morning. You’ve always got to buy, you know. If they all began to sell to you at once they’d bust you. It’s only because you’ve got ’em so scared—I believe—that keeps ’em from it. But it looks to me as though this selling proved that they were picking up heart. They think they can get the wheat from the farmers when harvesting begins. And I tell you, J., you’ve put the price of wheat so high, that the wheat areas are extending all over the country.”
“You’re scared,” cried Jadwin. “That’s the trouble with you, Sam. You’ve been scared from the start. Can’t you see, man, can’t you see that this market is a regular tornado?”
“I see that the farmers all over the country are planting wheat as they’ve never planted it before. Great Scott, J., you’re fighting against the
