Neville bowed again and turned away. Kellog plucked him by the sleeve. He had sneaked a look at the order. The amount he had on balance would margin it.
"I'll take that—at the current price," he whispered. "You needn't send it to New York."
"You're crazy," said Neville, but he noted the order.
Kellog sat back and waited, gloating. In a few minutes the news would come through that the market had reversed itself. He had made a brilliant double play. If Carmichael's selling order had gone through in the regular way, when it hit New York his stock would have brought him hundreds of dollars a share; conversely, if his own buying order had, he would have had to pay the corresponding price. As it was, he got Carmichael's stock at 43, close to the bottom, and for it Wolf received but 43.
"Whipsawed!" Carmichael yelled when Aalman's bullish statement was broadcast. "The dirty rattlesnake. He started the rumors to depress the stock; now he's buying it in at a bargain. Neville! Cancel my selling orders."
Neville was late in coming. In the meantime the later flash showed on the screen—the one telling of suspension of trading and the penalties levied on short-sellers.
"Sorry, sir," said Neville, as placatingly as possible, "but it is already executed. You said quick, so I disposed of it locally."
Carmichael snorted and looked about him.
"What fool—" he began, but Neville simply said, "The gentleman on your right."
Carmichael glared at Kellog. Kellog glared right back.