Suddenly the lull was broken.  Bob’s voice rang out again—­“153 for any part of 10,000 Sugar.”  Again the gamblers closed in and for another five minutes the opening scene was duplicated, with only a shade less fierceness.  After ten minutes’ mad trading a mighty burst of sound told that Sugar was 160 bid.  Then Bob worked his way out of the crowd, and passing by me fairly hissed, “By heaven, Jim, I’ve got them cinched!”

I went back to the office.  In a few minutes Bob without a word strode through my office and into the little room occupied by Beulah Sands.  He closed the door behind him, a thing that he had never done before.  It was only a minute till he opened it and called to me.  In his eyes was a strange look, a look that came from the blending of two mighty passions, one joy, the other I could not make out, unless it was that soft one, which suppressed love, emerging from terrible uncertainty, generates in deep natures and which usually finds vent in tears.  Beulah Sands was a study.  Her heart was evidently swaying and tugging with the news Bob had brought her.  She must have seen the nearness of release from the torture that had been filling her soul during the past three months, and yet such was the remarkable self-control of the woman, such her noble courage, that she refused to show any outward sign of her feelings.  She was the reserved, dignified girl I had ever seen her.  “Jim, Miss Sands and I thought it best that we should have a little match up at this stage of our deal,” Bob began.  “I want to know if you both agree with me on adhering to the original plans to close out at 175.  I never felt surer of my ground than in this deal.  The stock is 163 on the tape right now.”  He glanced at the white paper ribbon whose every foot on certain days spells Heaven or Hell to countless mortals, as it rolled out of the ticker in the corner of the office.  “Yes, there she goes again—­33/4, 4, 41/4 and 1,200 at a half.  There is a tremendous demand from all quarters.  Washington’s buying is unlimited; the commission-houses are tumbling over one another to get aboard and the shorts are scared to a paralysed muteness.  They don’t know whether to jump in and cover or to stand their present hands, but they have no pluck to fight the rise, that is certain.  The news bureaus have just published the story that I am buying for Randolph & Randolph, and they for the insiders; that the new tariff is as good as passed; and that at the directors’ meeting to-morrow the Sugar dividend will be increased, and that it is agreed on all sides she won’t stop going until she crosses 200.  I’ve been obliged to take on only 18,000 of your 50,000, and at present prices there is over two hundred thousand profit in them.  I think I could go back there and in thirty minutes have it to 180.  Then if I rested on it until about one o’clock and threw myself at it for real fireworks up to the close, I could, under cover of them, let slip about half our purchases, and to-morrow open her with a whirl and let go the balance.  If I’m in luck I’ll average 180-185 for the whole bunch, but I’ll be satisfied if I get an average of 175, which would allow me to sell it on a dropping scale to 160.”