ne'er shall look upon your like again."

Gretry did not laugh.

"Huh!" he grunted. "You'll look upon a hatful of them before the
month is out."

That same morning Landry Court found himself in the corridor on the
ground floor of the Board of Trade about nine o'clock. He had just
come out of the office of Gretry, Converse & Co., where he and the
other Pit traders for the house had been receiving their orders for
the day.

As he was buying a couple of apples at the news stand at the end of
the corridor, Semple and a young Jew named Hirsch, Pit traders for
small firms in La Salle Street, joined him.

"Hello, Court, what do you know?"

"Hello, Barry Semple! Hello, Hirsch!" Landry offered the halves of
his second apple, and the three stood there a moment, near the foot
of the stairs, talking and eating their apples from the points of
their penknives.

"I feel sort of seedy this morning," Semple observed between
mouthfuls. "Was up late last night at a stag. A friend of mine just
got back from Europe, and some of the boys were giving him a little
dinner. He was all over the shop, this friend of mine; spent most of
his time in Constantinople; had some kind of newspaper business
there. It seems that it's a pretty crazy proposition, Turkey and the