n's face distinctly; the light was bad, and he
sat with his face turned from him, eating a sandwich, which he held in
a trembling hand.

Jadwin, having noted that wheat was selling at 94, went away, glad to
be out of the depressing atmosphere of the room.

Gretry was in his office, and Jadwin was admitted at once. He sat down
in a chair by the broker's desk, and for the moment the two talked of
trivialities. Gretry was a large, placid, smooth-faced man, stolid as
an ox; inevitably dressed in blue serge, a quill tooth-pick behind his
ear, a Grand Army button in his lapel. He and Jadwin were intimates.
The two had come to Chicago almost simultaneously, and had risen
together to become the wealthy men they were at the moment. They
belonged to the same club, lunched together every day at Kinsley's, and
took each other driving behind their respective trotters on alternate
Saturday afternoons. In the middle of summer each stole a fortnight
from his business, and went fishing at Geneva Lake in Wisconsin.

"I say," Jadwin observed, "I saw an old fellow outside in your
customers' room just now that put me in mind of Hargus. You remember
that deal of his, the one he tried to swing before he died. Oh--how
long ago was that? Bless my soul, that must have been fifteen, yes
twenty years ago."

The deal of which Jadwin spoke was the legendary operation of the Board
of Trade--a mammoth corner in September wheat, manipulated by this same
Hargus, a millionaire, who had tripled his fortune by the corner, and
had lost it by some chicanery on the part of his associate before
another year. He had run wheat up to nearly two dollars, had been in
his day a king all-powerful. Since then all deals had been spoken of in
terms of the Hargus affair. Speculators said, "It was almost as bad as
the Hargus deal." "It was like the Hargus smash." "It was as big a
thing as the Hargus corner." Hargus had become a sort of creature of
legends, mythical, heroic, transfigured in the glory of his millions.

"Easily twenty years ago," continued Jadwin. "If Hargus could come to
life now, he'd be surprised at the difference in the way we do business
these days. Twenty years. Yes, it's all of that. I declare, Sam, we're
getting old, aren't we?"

"I guess that was Hargus you saw out there," answered the broker. "He's
not dead. Old fellow in a stove-pipe and greasy frock coat? Yes, that's
Hargus."

"What!" exclaimed Jadwin. "_That_ Hargus?"

"Of course it wa