I had sold Doddridge Knapp's entire lot of the stock at an average of over sixty-five, had netted him a profit of fifteen dollars a share, and had, for a second purpose, served the plan of campaign by drawing the enemy's resources to the defense of Crown Diamond and weakening, by so much, his power of operating elsewhere. By the time Omega was reached I had the plans fully in hand. The assault on Crown Diamond had caused a nervous feeling all along the line, and under rumors of a bear raid there had been a drop of several points. Omega felt the results of the nervousness and depression, and opened at seventy-five. There was a moment's buzz--the quiet of a crowd expectant of great events. Then Wallbridge charged into the throng with a roar. I could not distinguish his words, but I knew that he was carrying out my order to drop five thousand shares on the market. At his cry there was an answering roar, and the scene upon the floor turned to a riot. Men rushed hither and thither, screaming, shouting, waving their arms, pushing, jostling, tearing each other to get into the midst of the throng, whirling about, mobbing first one and then another of the leather-lunged leaders who furnished at each moment fresh centers for the outbreak of disorder. How the market was going, I could only guess. At Wallbridge's onset I saw Lattimer and Eppner make a dive for him and then separate, following other shouting, screaming madmen who pirouetted about the floor and tried to save themselves from a mobbing. I heard seventy shouted from one direction, but could not make out whether it set the price of the stock or not. The din was too confusing for me to follow the course of events. At last Wallbridge staggered up to the rail, flushed, collarless and panting for breath, with his hat a hopeless wreck. “We've done it!” he gasped in my ear. “The dogs of war are making the fur fly down here, you bet! Don't you wish you was in it?” “No, I don't!” I shouted decidedly. “How does it go?” “I sold down to seventy-one--average seventy-three, I guess--and she's piling in fit to break the floor.” “Did Lattimer and Eppner get your stock?” I could not help asking. “They got about three thousand of it. Rosenheim got the rest.” I remembered Rosenheim as the agent of Decker, and sighed. But Lattimer and Eppner were busy, and I had hopes. “Where is it now?” I asked. “Sixty-nine and a half.” I meditated an instant whether to use my authority to throw another five thousand shares on the market. But I caught sight of Decker opposite, pale, hawklike, just seizing an envelope from a messenger. He tore it open, and though his face changed not a line, I felt by a mysterious instinct that it brought assurance of the aid he sought. “Buy every share you can get,” I said promptly. “Don't get in the way of Lattimer or Eppner. Put on steam, too.”