Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Psychological fiction; Wheat trade -- Fiction
But at this Page, who, by the rush of the crowd had been carried almost
to the top of the stairs, managed to extricate an arm from the press,
and hold Landry's card in the air. She even hazarded a little deception:
"I have a pass. Will you let me through, please?"
Luckily one of the officers heard her. He bore down heavily with all
the mass of his two hundred pounds and the majesty of the law he
represented, to the rescue and succour of this very pretty girl.
"Let the lady through," he roared, forcing a passage with both elbows.
"Come right along, Miss. Stand back you, now. Can't you see the lady
has a pass? Now then, Miss, and be quick about it, I can't keep 'em
back forever."
Jostled and hustled, her dress crumpled, her hat awry, Page made her
way forward, till the officer caught her by the arm, and pulled her out
of the press. With a long breath she gained the landing of the gallery.
The guide, an old fellow in a uniform of blue, with brass buttons and a
visored cap, stood near by, and to him she presented Landry's card.
"Oh, yes, oh, yes," he shouted in her ear, after he had glanced it
over. "You were the party Mr. Court spoke about. You just came in time.
I wouldn't 'a dared hold your seat a minute longer."
He led her down the crowded aisle between rows of theatre chairs, all
of which were occupied, to one vacant seat in the very front row.
"You can see everything, now," he cried, making a trumpet of his palm.
"You're Mister Jadwin's niece. I know, I know. Ah, it's a wild day,
Miss. They ain't done much yet, and Mr. Jadwin's holding his own, just
now. But I thought for a moment they had him on the run. You see
that--my, my, there was a sharp rally. But he's holding on strong yet."
Page took her seat, and leaning forward looked down into the Wheat Pit.
Once free of the crowd after leaving Page, Landry ran with all the
swiftness of his long legs down the stair, and through the corridors
till, all out of breath, he gained Gretry's private office. The other
Pit traders for the house, some eight or ten men, were already
assembled, and just as Landry entered by one door, the broker himself
came in from the customers' room. Jadwin was nowhere to be seen.
"What are the orders for to-day, sir?"
Gretry was very pale. Despite his long experience on the Board of
Trade, Landry could see anxiety in every change of his expression, in
every motion of his hands. The broker before answering the question
crossed the room to the water cooler and drank a brief swallow. Then
emptying the glass he refilled it, moistened his lips again, and again
emptied and filled the goblet. He put it down, caught it up once more,
filled it, emptied it, drinking now in long draughts, now in little
sips. He was quite unconscious of his actions, and Landry as he
watched, felt his heart sink. Things must, indeed, be at a desperate
pass when Gretry, the calm, the clear-headed, the placid, was thus
upset.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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