The next day was Sunday. But on Monday, Liverpool was due to open up twenty points to be on a parity with the advance in New York. Instead, it came fifty points higher. That meant that Liverpool had exceeded our advance by 100 per cent. I had nothing to do with the rise in that market. This showed me that my deductions had been sound and that I was trading along the line of least resistance. At the same time I was not losing sight of the fact that I had a whopping big line to dispose of. A market may advance sharply or rise gradually and yet not possess the power to absorb more than a certain amount of selling. Of course the Liverpool cables made our own market wild. But I noticed the higher it went the scarcer July cotton seemed to be. I wasn’t letting go any of mine. Altogether that Monday was an exciting and not very cheerful day for the bears; but for all that, I could detect no signs of impending bear panic; no beginnings of a blind stampede to cover. And I had one hundred and forty thousand bales for which I must find a market. On Tuesday morning as I was walking to my office I met a friend at the entrance of the building. “That was quite a story in the _World_ this morning,” he said with a smile. “What story?” I asked. “What? Do you mean to tell me you haven’t seen it?” “I never see the _World_,” I said. “What is the story?” “Why, it’s all about you. It says you’ve got July cotton cornered.” “I haven’t seen it,” I told him and left him. I don’t know whether he believed me or not. He probably thought it was highly inconsiderate of me not to tell him whether it was true or not. When I got to the office I sent out for a copy of the paper. Sure enough, there it was, on the front page, in big headlines: JULY COTTON CORNERED BY LARRY LIVINGSTON Of course I knew at once that the article would play the dickens with the market. If I had deliberately studied ways and means of disposing of my one hundred and forty thousand bales to the best advantage I couldn’t have hit upon a better plan. It would not have been possible to find one. That article at that very moment was being read all over the country either in the _World_ or in other papers quoting it. It had been cabled to Europe. That was plain from the Liverpool prices. That market was simply wild. No wonder, with such news. Of course I knew what New York would do, and what I ought to do. The market here opened at ten o’clock. At ten minutes after ten I did not own any cotton. I let them have every one of my one hundred and forty thousand bales. For most of my line I received what proved to be the top prices of the day. The traders made the market for me. All I really did was to see a heaven-sent opportunity to get rid of my cotton. I grasped it because I couldn’t help it. What else could I do?