“Oh, it is,” answered Semple easily. He looked at his watch. “I guess it’s about time to go up, pretty near half-past nine.”

The three mounted the stairs, mingling with the groups of floor traders who, in steadily increasing numbers, had begun to move in the same direction. But on the way Hirsch was stopped by his brother.

“Hey, I got that box of cigars for you.”

Hirsch paused. “Oh! All right,” he said, then he added: “Say, how about that Higgins-Pasha affair? You remember that row between England and Turkey. They tell me the British agent in Constantinople put it pretty straight to the Sultan the other day.”

The other was interested. “He did, hey?” he said. “The market hasn’t felt it, though. Guess there’s nothing to it. But there’s Kelly yonder. He’d know. He’s pretty thick with Porteous’ men. Might ask him.”

“You ask him and let me know. I got to go on the floor. It’s nearly time for the gong.”