The Pit [95]
to be a short-crop year everywhere. I saw that wheat would go higher and higher, so I bought another million bushels in October, and another early in this month. That's all. You see, I figure that pretty soon those people over in England and Italy and Germany--the people that eat wheat--will be willing to pay us in America big prices for it, because it's so hard to get. They've got to have the wheat--it's bread 'n' butter to them."
"Oh, then why not give it to them?" she cried. "Give it to those poor people--your five million bushels. Why, that would be a godsend to them."
Jadwin stared a moment.
"Oh, that isn't exactly how it works out," he said.
Before he could say more, however, the maid came in and handed to Jadwin three despatches.
"Now those," said Laura, when the servant had gone out, "you get those every morning. Are those part of your business? What do they say?"
"I'll read them to you," he told her as he slit the first envelopes. "They are cablegrams from agents of mine in Europe. Gretry arranged to have them sent to me. Here now, this is from Odessa. It's in cipher, but"--he drew a narrow memorandum-book from his breast pocket--"I'll translate it for you."
He turned the pages of the key book a few moments, jotting down the translation on the back of an envelope with the gold pencil at the end of his watch chain.
"Here's how it reads," he said at last. "'Cash wheat advanced one cent bushel on Liverpool buying, stock light. Shipping to interior. European price not attractive to sellers."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"Well, that Russia will not export wheat, that she has no more than enough for herself, so that Western Europe will have to look to us for her wheat."
"And the others? Read those to me."
Again Jadwin translated.
"This is from Paris:
"'Answer on one million bushels wheat in your market-- stocks lighter than expected, and being cleared up.'"
"Which is to say?" she queried.
"They want to know how much I would ask for a million bushels. They find it hard to get the stuff over there--just as I said they would."
"Will you sell it to them?"
"Maybe. I'll talk to Sam about it."
"And now the last one."
"It's from Liverpool, and Liverpool, you must understand, is the great buyer of wheat. It's a tremendously influential place."
He began once more to consult the key book, one finger following the successive code words of the despatch.
Laura, watching him, saw his eyes suddenly contract. "By George," he muttered, all at once, "by George, what's this?"
"What is it?" she demanded. "Is it important?"
But all-absorbed, Jadwin neither heard nor responded. Three times he verified the same word.
"Oh, please tell me," she begged.
Jadwin shook his head impatiently and held up a warning hand.
"Wait, wait," he said. "Wait a minute."
Word for word he wrote out the translation of the cablegram, and then studied it intently.
"That's it," he said, at last. Then he got to his feet. "I guess I've had enough breakfast," he declared. He looked at his watch, touched the call bell, and when the maid appeared said:
"Tell Jarvis to bring the buggy around right away."
"But, dear, what is it?" repeated Laura. "You said you would tell me. You see," she cried, "it's just as I said. You've forgotten my very existence. When it's a question of wheat I count for nothing. And just now, when you read the despatch to yourself, you were all different; such a look came into your face, so cruelly eager, and triumphant and keen"
"You'd be eager, too," he exclaimed, "if you understood. Look; read it for yourself."
He thrust the cable into her hands. Over each code word he had written its translation, and his wife read:
"Large firms here short and in embarrassing position, owing to curtailment in Argentine shipments. Can negotiate for five million wheat if price satisfactory."
"Well?" she asked.
"Well, don't you see what that means? It's the 'European demand' at last. They must have wheat, and I've got it to give
"Oh, then why not give it to them?" she cried. "Give it to those poor people--your five million bushels. Why, that would be a godsend to them."
Jadwin stared a moment.
"Oh, that isn't exactly how it works out," he said.
Before he could say more, however, the maid came in and handed to Jadwin three despatches.
"Now those," said Laura, when the servant had gone out, "you get those every morning. Are those part of your business? What do they say?"
"I'll read them to you," he told her as he slit the first envelopes. "They are cablegrams from agents of mine in Europe. Gretry arranged to have them sent to me. Here now, this is from Odessa. It's in cipher, but"--he drew a narrow memorandum-book from his breast pocket--"I'll translate it for you."
He turned the pages of the key book a few moments, jotting down the translation on the back of an envelope with the gold pencil at the end of his watch chain.
"Here's how it reads," he said at last. "'Cash wheat advanced one cent bushel on Liverpool buying, stock light. Shipping to interior. European price not attractive to sellers."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"Well, that Russia will not export wheat, that she has no more than enough for herself, so that Western Europe will have to look to us for her wheat."
"And the others? Read those to me."
Again Jadwin translated.
"This is from Paris:
"'Answer on one million bushels wheat in your market-- stocks lighter than expected, and being cleared up.'"
"Which is to say?" she queried.
"They want to know how much I would ask for a million bushels. They find it hard to get the stuff over there--just as I said they would."
"Will you sell it to them?"
"Maybe. I'll talk to Sam about it."
"And now the last one."
"It's from Liverpool, and Liverpool, you must understand, is the great buyer of wheat. It's a tremendously influential place."
He began once more to consult the key book, one finger following the successive code words of the despatch.
Laura, watching him, saw his eyes suddenly contract. "By George," he muttered, all at once, "by George, what's this?"
"What is it?" she demanded. "Is it important?"
But all-absorbed, Jadwin neither heard nor responded. Three times he verified the same word.
"Oh, please tell me," she begged.
Jadwin shook his head impatiently and held up a warning hand.
"Wait, wait," he said. "Wait a minute."
Word for word he wrote out the translation of the cablegram, and then studied it intently.
"That's it," he said, at last. Then he got to his feet. "I guess I've had enough breakfast," he declared. He looked at his watch, touched the call bell, and when the maid appeared said:
"Tell Jarvis to bring the buggy around right away."
"But, dear, what is it?" repeated Laura. "You said you would tell me. You see," she cried, "it's just as I said. You've forgotten my very existence. When it's a question of wheat I count for nothing. And just now, when you read the despatch to yourself, you were all different; such a look came into your face, so cruelly eager, and triumphant and keen"
"You'd be eager, too," he exclaimed, "if you understood. Look; read it for yourself."
He thrust the cable into her hands. Over each code word he had written its translation, and his wife read:
"Large firms here short and in embarrassing position, owing to curtailment in Argentine shipments. Can negotiate for five million wheat if price satisfactory."
"Well?" she asked.
"Well, don't you see what that means? It's the 'European demand' at last. They must have wheat, and I've got it to give