Part 39 (1/2)

”But have you thought of this?” urged Freye, and went over the entire proposition, from a fresh point of view, winding up with the exclamation: ”Why, Charlie, we're going to make our everlasting fortunes.”

”I don't want any everlasting fortune, Billy Freye,” protested Cressler. ”Look here, Billy. You must remember I'm a pretty old c.o.c.k.

You boys are all youngsters. I've got a little money left and a little business, and I want to grow old quiet-like. I had my fling, you know, when you boys were in knickerbockers. Now you let me keep out of all this. You get some one else.”

”No, we'll be jiggered if we do,” exclaimed Sweeny. ”Say, are ye scared we can't buy that trade journal? Why, we have it in our pocket, so we have. D'ye think Crookes, now, couldn't make Bear sentiment with the public, with just the lift o' one forefinger? Why, he owns most of the commercial columns of the dailies already. D'ye think he couldn't swamp that market with sellin' orders in the shorter end o' two days? D'ye think we won't all hold together, now? Is that the bug in the b.u.t.ter?

Sure, now, listen. Let me tell you--”

”You can't tell me anything about this scheme that you've not told me before,” declared Cressler. ”You'll win, of course. Crookes & Co. are like Rothschild--earthquakes couldn't budge 'em. But I promised myself years ago to keep out of the speculative market, and I mean to stick by it.”

”Oh, get on with you, Charlie,” said Freye, good-humouredly, ”you're scared.”

”Of what,” asked Cressler, ”speculating? You bet I am, and when you're as old as I am, and have been through three panics, and have known what it meant to have a corner bust under you, you'll be scared of speculating too.”

”But suppose we can prove to you,” said Sweeny, all at once, ”that we're not speculating--that the other fellow, this fool Bull is doing the speculating?”

”I'll go into anything in the way of legitimate trading,” answered Cressler, getting up from the table. ”You convince me that your clique is not a speculative clique, and I'll come in. But I don't see how your deal can be anything else.”

”Will you meet us here to-morrow?” asked Sweeny, as they got into their overcoats.

”It won't do you any good,” persisted Cressler.

”Well, will you meet us just the same?” the other insisted. And in the end Cressler accepted.

On the steps of the restaurant they parted, and the two leaders watched Cressler's broad, stooped shoulders disappear down the street.

”He's as good as in already,” Sweeny declared. ”I'll fix him to-morrow.

Once a speculator, always a speculator. He was the c.o.c.k of the cow-yard in his day, and the thing is in the blood. He gave himself clean, clean away when he let out he was afraid o' speculating. You can't be afraid of anything that ain't got a hold on you. Y' understand me now?”

”Well,” observed Freye, ”we've got to get him in.”

”Talk to me about that now,” Sweeny answered. ”I'm new to some parts o'

this scheme o' yours yet. Why is Crookes so keen on having him in? I'm not so keen. We could get along without him. He ain't so G.o.d-awful rich, y' know.”

”No, but he's a solid, conservative cash grain man,” answered Freye, ”who hasn't been a.s.sociated with speculating for years. Crookes has got to have that element in the clique before we can approach Stires & Co.

We may have to get a pile of money from them, and they're apt to be scary and cautious. Cressler being in, do you see, gives the clique a substantial, conservative character. You let Crookes manage it. He knows his business.”

”Say,” exclaimed Sweeny, an idea occurring to him, ”I thought Crookes was going to put us wise to-day. He must know by now who the Big Bull is.”

”No doubt he does know,” answered the other. ”He'll tell us when he's ready. But I think I could copper the individual. There was a great big jag of wheat sold to Liverpool a little while ago through Gretry, Converse & Co., who've been acting for Curtis Jadwin for a good many years.”

”Oh, Jadwin, hey? Hi! we're after big game now, I'm thinking.”

”But look here,” warned Freye. ”Here's a point. Cressler is not to know by the longest kind of chalk; anyhow not until he's so far in, he can't pull out. He and Jadwin are good friends, I'm told. h.e.l.lo, it's raining a little. Well, I've got to be moving. See you at lunch to-morrow.”

As Cressler turned into La Salle Street the light sprinkle of rain suddenly swelled to a deluge, and he had barely time to dodge into the portico of the Illinois Trust to escape a drenching. All the pa.s.sers-by close at hand were making for the same shelter, and among these Cressler was surprised to see Curtis Jadwin, who came running up the narrow lane from the cafe entrance of the Grand Pacific Hotel.

”h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo, J.,” he cried, when his friend came panting up the steps, ”as the whale said to Jonah, 'Come in out of the wet.'”