“Sam, we’ve touched bottom,” he declared, “touched bottom all along the line. It’s a paper dime to the Subtreasury.”

“I don’t care about the rest of the line,” said the broker doggedly, sitting on the edge of the table, “wheat will go to sixty.” He indicated the nest of balls with a movement of his chin. “Will you break?”

Jadwin broke and scored, leaving one ball three inches in front of a corner pocket. He called the shot, and as he drew back his cue he said, deliberately:

“Just as sure as I make this pocket wheat will⁠—not go⁠—off⁠—another⁠— cent. ”

With the last word he drove the ball home and straightened up. Gretry laid down his cue and looked at him quickly. But he did not speak. Jadwin sat down on one of the straight-backed chairs upon the raised platform against the wall and rested his elbows upon his knees.