“Of what,” asked Cressler, “speculating? You bet I am, and when you’re as old as I am, and have been through three panics, and have known what it meant to have a corner bust under you, you’ll be scared of speculating too.”

“But suppose we can prove to you,” said Sweeny, all at once, “that we’re not speculating⁠—that the other fellow, this fool Bull is doing the speculating?”

“I’ll go into anything in the way of legitimate trading,” answered Cressler, getting up from the table. “You convince me that your clique is not a speculative clique, and I’ll come in. But I don’t see how your deal can be anything else.”

“Will you meet us here tomorrow?” asked Sweeny, as they got into their overcoats.

“It won’t do you any good,” persisted Cressler.

“Well, will you meet us just the same?” the other insisted. And in the end Cressler accepted.