The Pit [33]
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
"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