On the next day came the second chapter of the big Turpentine deal. Mr. Sharpe, having received the pool’s 114,400 shares, divided it into three lots, 40,000 shares, 50,000 shares, and 24,400 shares. The market had held fairly strong, but the lynx-eyed room traders failed to perceive the usual “support” in “Turp” and began to sell it in order to make sure. There was enough commission-house buying and belated short-covering to keep it moderately steady. Then the room traders redoubled their efforts to depress it, by selling more than there were buying orders for; also by selling it cheaper than was warranted by the legitimate demand for the stock. It was a favorite trick to offer to sell thousands of shares lower than people were willing to pay, in order to frighten the timid holders and make them sell; which in turn would make still others sell, until the movement became general enough to cause a substantial fall. Slowly the price began to yield. All that was needed was a leader. Whereupon Mr. Sharpe took the first lot of pool stock, 40,000 shares, and hurled it full at the market. The impact was terrible; the execution appalling. The market reeled crazily. The stock, which after selling up to 72¾ had “closed” on the previous day at 71⅞, dropped twenty points and closed at 54. The newspapers said that the corner was “busted”; that the “squeeze” was over. Hundreds of people slept ill that night. Scores did not sleep at all. On the next day he fired by volleys 50,000 shares more at the market. The stock sank to 41¼. Such a break was almost unprecedented. The Street asked itself if it were not on the eve of a crash that would become historic in a district whose chronology is reckoned by big market movements. Greenbaum rushed to Sharpe’s office. The terrible break gave him courage to do anything. A Wall Street worm will turn when the market misbehaves itself. “What’s the matter?” he asked angrily. “What are you doing to Turpentine?” Sharpe looked him full in the face, but his voice was even and emotionless as he replied: “Somebody has been selling on us. I don’t know who. I wish I did. I was afraid I might have to take 100,000 shares more, so I just sold as much as I could. I’ve marketed most of the pool’s stock. If it had not been for the jag of stock I struck around 60 and 62, Turpentine would be selling at 85 or 90 to-day. Come again next week, Greenbaum; and keep cool. Did you ever know me to fail? Good-by, Greenbaum; and don’t raise your voice when you speak to me.” “This has gone too far,” said Greenbaum, hotly. “You must give me an explanation or by Heaven I’ll——”