“Lot of damned sentiment,” cried Jadwin, refusing to be convinced. “Two-thirds of that wheat won’t grade, and Europe will take nearly all of it. What we ought to do is to send our men into the Pit and buy another million, buy more than these fools can offer. Buy ’em to a standstill.”
“That takes a big pile of money then,” said the broker. “More than we can lay our hands on this morning. The best we can do is to take all the Bears are offering, and support the market. The moment they offer us wheat and we don’t buy it, that moment—as you know, yourself—they’ll throw wheat at you by the train load, and the price will break, and we with it.”
“Think we’ll get rid of much wheat today?” demanded Jadwin.
By now it had became vitally necessary for Jadwin to sell out his holdings. His “long line” was a fearful expense, insurance and storage charges were eating rapidly into the profits. He must get rid of the load he was carrying, little by little. To do this at a profit, he had adopted the expedient of flooding the Pit with buying orders just before the close of the session, and then as the price rose under this stimulus, selling quickly, before it had time to break. At first this had succeeded. But of late he must buy more and more to keep the price up, while the moment that he began to sell, the price began to drop; so that now, in order to sell one bushel, he must buy two.
“Think we can unload much on ’em today?” repeated Jadwin.
“I don’t know,” answered Gretry, slowly and thoughtfully. “Perhaps—there’s a chance—. Frankly, J., I don’t think we can. The Pit is taking heart, that’s the truth of it. Those fellows are not so scared of us as they were a while ago. It’s the new crop, as I’ve said over and over again. We’ve put wheat so high, that all the farmers have planted it, and are getting ready to dump it on us. The Pit knows that, of course. Why, just think, they are harvesting in some places. These fellows we’ve caught in the corner will be able to buy all the wheat they want from the farmers if they can hold out a little longer. And that Government report yesterday showed that the growing wheat is in good condition.”
“Nothing of the sort. It was a little over eighty-six.”
“Good enough,” declared Gretry, “good enough so that it broke the price down to a dollar and twenty. 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. Hell, old man, where’s the money going to come from? You don’t seem to realise that we are in a precarious condition.” He raised an arm, and pointed above him in the direction of the floor of the Board of Trade.
“The moment we can’t give our boys—Landry Court, and the rest of ’em—the moment we can’t give them buying orders, that Pit will suck us down like a chip. 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, through his set teeth. “I’ll show those brutes. Look here, is it money we want? You cable to Paris and offer two million, at—oh, at eight cents below the market; and to Liverpool, and let ’em have twopence off on the same amount. They’ll snap it up as quick as look at it. That will bring in one lot of money, and as for the rest, I guess I’ve got some real estate in this town that’s pretty good security.”
“What—you going to mortgage part of that?”
“No,” cried Jadwin, jumping up with a quick impatient gesture, “no, I’m going to mortgage all of it, and I’m going to do it today—this morning. If you say we’re in a precarious condition, it’s no time for half measures. I’ll have more money than you’ll know what to do with in the Illinois Trust by three o’clock this afternoon, and when the Board opens tomorrow morning, I’m going to light into those cattle in the Pit there, so as they’ll think a locomotive has struck ’em. They’d stand me off, would they? They’d try to sell me down; they won’t cover when I turn the screw! I’ll show ’em, Sam Gretry. I’ll run wheat up so high before the next two days, that the Bank of England can’t pull it down, and before the Pit can catch its breath, I’ll sell our long line, and with the profits of that, by God! I’ll run it up again. Two dollars! Why, it will be two fifty here so quick you won’t know how it’s happened. I’ve just been fooling with this crowd until now. Now, I’m really going to get down to business.”
Gretry did not answer. He twirled his pencil between his fingers, and stared down at the papers on his desk. Once he started to speak, but checked himself. Then at last he turned about.
“All
