The broker opened it. "New York lost advance
and recovered it twice in the first hour," he read. "At present a
point or two better. Steady buying in Liverpool."
"That," said the other man, "is quite enough for me. Let me have the
contracts as soon as they're ready."
He went out, and Graham turned to Winston. "There's half-a-dozen more
of them outside," he said. "Do you buy or sell?"
Winston laughed. "I want to know which a wise man would do."
"Well," said Graham, "I can't tell you. The bulls rushed wheat up as I
wired you, but the other folks got their claws in and worried it down
again. Wheat's anywhere and nowhere all the time, and I'm advising
nobody just now. No doubt you've formed your own opinion."
Winston nodded. "It's the last of the grapple, and the bears aren't
quite beaten yet, but any time the next week or two the decisive turn
will come. Then, if they haven't got out, there'll be very little left
of them."
"You seem tolerably sure of the thing. Got plenty of confidence in the
bulls?"
Winston smiled. "I fancy I know how Western wheat was sown this year
better than any statistician of the ring, and it's not the bulls I'm
counting on, but those millions of hungry folks in the old country.
It's not New York or Chicago, but Liverpool the spark is coming from."
"Well," said Graham, "that's my notion, too, but I've no time for
anybody who hasn't grist for me just now. Still, I'd be glad to come
round and take you home to supper if you haven't the prejudice, which
is not unknown at Silverdale, against eating with a man who makes his
dollars on the market and didn't get them given him.
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