"Why, Sam," observed Jadwin, looking up from the paper, "there's less than a hundred million bushels in the farmers' hands.... That's awfully small. Sam, that's awfully small." "It ain't, as you might say, colossal," admitted Gretry. There was a long silence while the two men studied the report still further. Gretry took a pamphlet of statistics from a pigeon-hole of his desk, and compared certain figures with those mentioned in the report. Outside the rain swept against the windows with the subdued rustle of silk. A newsboy raised a Gregorian chant as he went down the street. "By George, Sam," Jadwin said again, "do you know that a whole pile of that wheat has got to go to Europe before July? How have the shipments been?" "About five millions a week." "Why, think of that, twenty millions a month, and it's--let's see, April, May, June, July--four months before a new crop. Eighty million bushels will go out of the country in the next four months--eighty million out of less than a hundred millions." "Looks that way," answered Gretry. "Here," said Jadwin, "let's get some figures. Let's get a squint on the whole situation. Got a 'Price Current' here? Let's find out what the stocks are in Chicago. I don't believe the elevators are exactly bursting, and, say," he called after the broker, who had started for the front office, "say, find out about the primary receipts, and the Paris and Liverpool stocks. Bet you what you like that Paris and Liverpool together couldn't show ten million to save their necks." In a few moments Gretry was back again, his hands full of pamphlets and "trade" journals. By now the offices were quite deserted. The last clerk had gone home. Without, the neighbourhood was emptying rapidly. Only a few stragglers hurried over the glistening sidewalks; only a few lights yet remained in the facades of the tall, grey office buildings. And in the widening silence the cooing of the pigeons on the ledges and window-sills of the Board of Trade Building made itself heard with increasing distinctness. Before Gretry's desk the two men leaned over the litter of papers. The broker's pencil was in his hand and from time to time he figured rapidly on a sheet of note paper. "And," observed Jadwin after a while, "and you see how the millers up here in the Northwest have been grinding up all the grain in sight. Do you see that?" "Yes," said Gretry, then he added, "navigation will be open in another month up there in the straits." "That's so, too," exclaimed Jadwin, "and what wheat there is here will be moving out. I'd forgotten that point. Ain't you glad you aren't short of wheat these days?" "There's plenty of fellows that are, though," returned Gretry. "I've got a lot of short wheat on my books--a lot of it." All at once as Gretry spoke Jadwin started, and looked at him with a curious glance. "You have, hey?" he said. "There are a lot of fellows who have sold short?"