“Well,” observed Freye, “we’ve got to get him in.”
“Talk to me about that now,” Sweeny answered. “I’m new to some parts o’ this scheme o’ yours yet. Why is Crookes so keen on having him in? I’m not so keen. We could get along without him. He ain’t so god-awful rich, y’ know.”
“No, but he’s a solid, conservative cash grain man,” answered Freye, “who hasn’t been associated with speculating for years. Crookes has got to have that element in the clique before we can approach Stires & Co. We may have to get a pile of money from them, and they’re apt to be scary and cautious. Cressler being in, do you see, gives the clique a substantial, conservative character. You let Crookes manage it. He knows his business.”
“Say,” exclaimed Sweeny, an idea occurring to him, “I thought Crookes was going to put us wise today. He must know by now who the Big Bull is.”
“No doubt he does know,” answered the other. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready. But I think I could copper the individual. There was a great big jag of wheat sold to Liverpool a little while ago through Gretry, Converse & Co., who’ve been acting for Curtis Jadwin for a good many years.”
“Oh, Jadwin, hey? Hi! we’re after big game now, I’m thinking.”
“But look here,” warned Freye. “Here’s a point. Cressler is not to know by the longest kind of chalk; anyhow not until he’s so far in, he can’t pull out. He and Jadwin are good friends, I’m told. Hello, it’s raining a little. Well, I’ve got to be moving. See you at lunch tomorrow.”
As Cressler turned into La Salle Street the light sprinkle of rain suddenly swelled to a deluge, and he had barely time to dodge into the portico of the Illinois Trust to escape a drenching. All the passersby close at hand were making for the same shelter, and among these Cressler was surprised to see Curtis Jadwin, who came running up the narrow lane from the café entrance of the Grand Pacific Hotel.
“Hello! Hello, J.,” he cried, when his friend came panting up the steps, “as the whale said to Jonah, ‘Come in out of the wet.’ ”
The two friends stood a moment under the portico, their coat collars turned up, watching the scurrying in the street.
“Well,” said Cressler, at last, “I see we got dollar wheat this morning.”
“Yes,” answered Jadwin, nodding, “dollar wheat.”
“I suppose,” went on Cressler, “I suppose you are sorry, now that you’re not in it any more.”
“Oh, no,” replied Jadwin, nibbling off the end of a cigar. “No, I’m—I’m just as well out of it.”
“And it’s for good and all this time, eh?”
“For good and all.”
“Well,” commented Cressler, “someone else has begun where you left off, I guess. This Unknown Bull, I mean. All the boys are trying to find out who he is. Crookes, though, was saying to me—Cal Crookes, you know—he was saying he didn’t care who he was. Crookes is out of the market, too, I understand—and means to keep out, he says, till the Big Bull gets tired. Wonder who the Big Bull is.”
“Oh, there isn’t any Big Bull,” blustered Jadwin. “There’s simply a lot of heavy buying, or maybe there might be a ring of New York men operating through Gretry. I don’t know; and I guess I’m like Crookes, I don’t care—now that I’m out of the game. Real estate is too lively now to think of anything else; keeps me on the keen jump early and late. I tell you what, Charlie, this city isn’t half grown yet. And do you know, I’ve noticed another thing—cities grow to the westward. I’ve got a building and loan association going, out in the suburbs on the West Side, that’s a dandy. Well, looks as though the rain had stopped. Remember me to madam. So long, Charlie.”
On leaving Cressler Jadwin went on to his offices in The Rookery, close at hand. But he had no more than settled himself at his desk, when he was called up on his telephone.
“Hello!” said a small, dry transformation of Gretry’s voice. “Hello, is that you, J.? Well, in the matter of that cash wheat in Duluth, I’ve bought that for you.”
“All right,” answered Jadwin, then he added, “I guess we had better have a long talk now.”
“I was going to propose that,” answered the broker. “Meet me this evening at seven at the Grand Pacific. It’s just as well that we’re not seen together nowadays. Don’t ask for me. Go right into the smoking-room. I’ll be there. And, by the way, I shall expect a reply from Minneapolis about half-past five this afternoon. I would like to be able to get at you at once when that comes in. Can you wait down for that?”
“Well, I was going home,” objected Jadwin. “I wasn’t home to dinner last night, and Mrs. Jadwin—”
“This is pretty important, you know,” warned the broker. “And if I call you up on your residence telephone, there’s always the chance of somebody cutting in and overhearing us.”
“Oh, very well, then,” assented Jadwin. “I’ll call it a day. I’ll get home for luncheon tomorrow. It can’t be helped. By the way, I met Cressler this afternoon, Sam, and he seemed sort of suspicious of things, to me—as though he had an inkling.”
“Better hang up,” came back the broker’s voice. “Better hang up, J. There’s big risk telephoning like this. I’ll see you tonight. Goodbye.”
And so it was that about half an hour later Laura was called to the telephone in the library.
“Oh, not coming home at all tonight?” she cried blankly in response to Jadwin’s message.
“It’s just impossible, old girl,” he answered.
“But why?” she insisted.
“Oh, business; this building and loan association of mine.”
“Oh, I know it can’t be that. Why don’t you let Mr. Gretry manage
