Before he could say more, however, the maid came in and handed to Jadwin three despatches.

“Now those,” said Laura, when the servant had gone out, “you get those every morning. Are those part of your business? What do they say?”

“I’ll read them to you,” he told her as he slit the first envelopes. “They are cablegrams from agents of mine in Europe. Gretry arranged to have them sent to me. Here now, this is from Odessa. It’s in cipher, but”⁠—he drew a narrow memorandum-book from his breast pocket⁠—“I’ll translate it for you.”

He turned the pages of the key book a few moments, jotting down the translation on the back of an envelope with the gold pencil at the end of his watch chain.

“Here’s how it reads,” he said at last. “ ‘Cash wheat advanced one cent bushel on Liverpool buying, stock light. Shipping to interior. European price not attractive to sellers.’ ”

“What does that mean?” she asked.