“Very well. Sell 50,000 shares of Federal Telegraph Company for me.” “What price?” jotting down the figures, from force of habit, his mind being paralyzed. “The best you can get. The stock,” glancing at the tape, “is 91.” “Very well.” The two men looked at one another—Dutch Dan half menacingly, Greener, calmly, steadily, his furtive eyes almost truthful. “Good-morning,” said Dittenhoeffer at length and the little man’s high-browed head nodded dismissingly. Dittenhoeffer hastened back to the Exchange. At the entrance he met his partner, Smith—the “Co.” of D. Dittenhoeffer & Co. “Bill, I’ve just got an order from Greener to sell 50,000 shares of Federal Telegraph.” “Wh-what?” gasped Smith. “Greener sent for me, asked me whether I’d accept an order from him, I said yes, and he told me to sell 50,000 shares of Telegraph, and I’m——” “You’ve got him, Dan. You’ve got him,” exultantly. “I’m going to cover my 20,000 shares with the first half of the order and sell the rest the best I can.” “Man alive, this is your chance! Don’t you see you’ve got him? Smilie of the Eastern National Bank tells me there isn’t a bank in the city will lend Greener money, and he needs it badly to pay the last $10,000,000 to the Indian Pacific bondholders. He’s bit off more than he can chew, damn ‘im!” “Well, Bill, we’ll treat Mr. Greener as we do any other customer,” said Dittenhoeffer. “But—” began Smith, with undisguised consternation; he was an honest man, when away from the Street. “Oh, I’ll get him yet. This won’t save him. I’ll get him yet,” with a confident smile. It would have been very easy for him to take advantage of Greener’s order to make a fortune. He was short 20,000 shares which he had put out at an average price of 93. He could have taken Greener’s block of 50,000 shares and hurled it bodily at the market. Not even a gilt-edge stock could withstand the impact of such a fearful blow, and the price of Federal Telegraph doubtless would have broken 15 points or more, and he could easily have taken in his shorts at 75 or possibly even at 70–-which would have meant a profit of a half-million of dollars—and a loss of a much needed million to his arch-foe, Greener. And if he allowed his partner to whisper in strict confidence to some friend how Dan was selling out a big line of Telegraph for Greener the “Room” would have gone wild and everybody would have hastened to sell and the decline would have gone so much further as to cripple the little Napoleon possibly beyond all hope of recovery. Had Greener made the most colossal mistake of his life in giving the order to his enemy?