very ten were doomed in advance to
ruin and defeat. They procured passes to the visitors' gallery of the
Exchange. From here one looked down into a room one or two hundred feet
square, its floor covered with a snowstorm of torn pieces of paper, and
its air a babel of shouts and cries. Here were gathered perhaps two
thousand men and boys; some were lounging and talking, but most were
crowded about the various trading-posts, pushing, climbing over each
other, leaping up, waving their hands and calling aloud. A "seat" in
this exchange was worth about ninety-five thousand dollars, and so no
one of these men was poor; but yet they came, day after day, to play
their parts in this sordid arena, "seeking in sorrow for each other's
joy": inventing a thousand petty tricks to outwit and deceive each
other; rejoicing in a thousand petty triumphs; and spending their
lives, like the waves upon the shore, a very symbol of human futility.
Now and then a sudden impulse would seize them, and they would become
like howling demons, surging about one spot, shrieking, gasping,
clawing each other's clothing to pieces; and the spectator shuddered,
seeing them as the victims of some strange and dreadful enchantment,
which bound them to struggle and torment each other until they were
worn out and grey.

But one felt these things only dimly, when he had put all his fortune
into Transcontinental Common. For then he had sold his own soul to the
enchanter, and the spell was upon him, and he hoped and feared and
agonized with the struggling throng. Montague had no need to ask which
was his "post"; for a mob of a hundred men were packed about it, with
little whirls and eddies here and there on the outside. "Something
doing to-day all right," said a man in his ear.

It was interesting to watch; but there was one difficulty--there were
no quotations provided for the spectators. So the sight of this
activity merely set them on edge with anxiety--something must be
happening to their stock! Even Oliver was visibly nervous--after all,
in the surest cases, the game was a dangerous one; there might be a big
failure, or an assassination, or an earthquake! They rushed out and
made for the nearest broker's office, where a glance at the board
showed them Transcontinental at 60. They drew a long breath, and sat
down again to wait.

That was about half-past eleven. At a quarter to twelve the stock went
up an eighth, and then a quarter, and then another eighth. T