In the President's box and made his address to his fellow members, Duff

listened to him with mounting admiration.

Sean's hearty reassurances and verbal side-stepping were enough to

strike despair into the souls of the most hardened optunists.

Sean finished his speech and climbed down from the box amid a gloomy

lack of applause. The bell rang and -the brokers stood singly or in

small disconsolate groups about the floor. The first tentative offer

was made. 11 sell C. R. C. But there was no rush to buy. Ten

minutes later there was a sale recorded at eighty-five shillings, six

shillings lower than the previous day's closing price. Duff leaned

across to Sean. We'll have to start selling some of our own shares to

get things moving, otherwise everybody's going to keep sitting on the

fence. That's all right, Sean nodded, we'll buy them back later at a

quarter of the price. But wait until the news about the Candy Deep gets

out. It was just before ten o'clock when that happened. The reaction

was sharp. In one quick burst of selling C. R. C. s dropped to sixty

shillings. But there they hung, fluctuating nervously in the chaos of

hope and doubt. We'll have to sell now, whispered Duff, they are short

of script. We'll have to give it to them otherwise the price will stick

here. Sean felt his hands trembling and he clenched them in his

pockets. Duff was showing signs of the strain as well, there was a

nerve jumping in his cheek and his eyes had receded into their sockets a

little. This was a game with high stakes. Don't overdo it, sell thirty

thousand The price of C. R. C. s sagged under the weight but levelled

out at forty-five shillings. There was still another hour until high

change and Sean's whole body was screwed up tight with tension. He felt

the cold patches of sweat under his arms. Sell another thirty thousand,

he ordered his clerk and even to himself his voice sounded wheezy. He

stubbed out his cigar in the copper ashtray next to his chair; it was

already half full of butts. It was no longer necessary for either of

them to act worried. This time the price stuck at forty shillings and

the sale of sixty thousand more of their shares failed to move it down

more than a few shillings.

Someone's buying up, muttered Sean uneasily.

It looks like it, agreed Duff. I'll lay odds it's that bloody Greek

Efthyvoulos. It looks as if we'll have to sell enough to glut him

before they'll drop any further. By high change Duff and Sean had sold

three-quarters of their holdings in C. R. C. s and the price still

stood stubbornly at thirty-seven and sixpence. So tantalizingly close

to the magic figure that would release a flood of Hradsky's shares onto

the unprepared market, but now they were nearing the stage when they

would no longer have any shares with which to force the price down that

last two and sixpence.

The market closed and left Duff and Sean sitting limply in their

armchairs, shaken and tired as prizefighters at the end of the fifteenth

round. Slowly the lounge emptied but still they sat on. Sean leaned

across and put his hand on Duffs shoulder. It's going to be all right,

he said. Tomorrow it will be all right. They looked at each other and

they exchanged strength, each of them drawing it from the other until

they were both smiling. Sean stood up. Come on, let's go home.

Sean went to bed early and alone. Although he felt drained of energy,

sleep was a long time coming to him and when it did it was full of

confused dreams and punctuated with sharp jerks back into wakefulness.