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Updated: May 25, 2025
No one had imagined the supply was so ample, so all-sufficient to meet the demand. Promptly the Pit responded. Wheat began to pour in heavily. Hirsch, Kelly, Grossmann, Leaycraft, the stolid Winston, and the excitable Rusbridge were hard at it. The price began to give. Suddenly it broke sharply. The hand on the great dial dropped to ninety-three and seven-eighths. Landry was beside himself.
What did I tell you?" interrupted Rusbridge. "I said it was everywhere. There's no smoke without some fire. And I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we get cables before noon that the British War Office had sent an ultimatum."
This was a young fellow named Rusbridge, lean, black-haired, a constant excitement glinting in his deep-set eyes. "Say," he exclaimed, "there's something in that, there's something in that!" "Where did you hear it?" demanded Landry. "Oh everywhere." Rusbridge made a vague gesture with one arm. "Hirsch seemed to know all about it.
The floor was talking of it three hours before the news slips were sent 'round, or a single wire was in. Suppose we had waited for the Associated people or the Commercial people then?" "It's that Higgins-Pasha incident, I'll bet," observed Rusbridge, his eyes snapping. "I heard something about that this morning," returned Landry. "But only that it was " "There!
He stood in his accustomed place on the north side of the Wheat Pit, upon the topmost stair. The Pit was full. Below him and on either side of him were the brokers, scalpers, and traders Hirsch, Semple, Kelly, Winston, and Rusbridge.
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