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Updated: May 5, 2025
Always the beat dropped to the same cadence, always the pulse spelled out the same words: "Wheat-wheat-wheat, wheat-wheat-wheat." And of late, during the long and still watches of the night, while he stared at the ceiling, or counted the hours that must pass before his next dose of bromide of potassium, a new turn had been given to the screw.
Were his wits leaving him? The horror of the question smote through him like the drive of a javelin. What was to happen? What nameless calamity impended? "Wheat-wheat-wheat, wheat-wheat-wheat." His watch under his pillow took up the refrain.
They blended easily into a far-off murmur; they came nearer; they developed into a cadence: "Wheat-wheat-wheat, wheat-wheat-wheat." Jadwin roused up. He had just been dropping off to sleep. He rose and shut the window, and again threw himself down. He was weary to death; not a nerve of his body that did not droop and flag. His eyes closed slowly.
It came galloping down the street, shouting with insensate fury; now it was at the corner, now it burst into the entrance of the hotel. Its clamour was deafening, but intelligible. For a thousand, a million, forty million voices were shouting in cadence: "Wheat-wheat-wheat, wheat-wheat-wheat." Jadwin woke abruptly, half starting from his chair.
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