listed stocks advance.

The clock strikes half-past two. Will half an hour suffice to readjust
the market?

An exceptional, an unprecedented bull panic is in progress. Brokers,
messengers, clerks, every one connected with the Stock Exchange is in a
flurry. Tickers are for the time being utterly forgotten.

In a corner of the Exchange sits the operator who has to send the doings
of the day to the Press Association. He is unmoved by any excitement
that may occur on the floor; it is an every-day experience with him.
Stolidly he reads the tape, and jots down the advance in the stocks as a
matter of course.

He has sent word to his office that Golding is to float the bond issue;
but he knows that this news has reached the office through another
channel before his belated report. He sends the message because it is a
part of his routine.

"Calais, Oct. 12th," are the words that now appear on the slip of paper
he is scanning. "James Golding, accompanied by M. Tabort, French banking
magnate, entered rear car Paris Express from London to cross the
Channel. Car uncoupled in tunnel; explosion; both men instantly killed;
submarine tunnel wrecked."

Here _is_ news. The instinct of the broker is awakened in the operator.
He leaves his desk and walks rapidly to the pit. He places his hand on
the shoulder of a prominent broker. In a few words he tells this man the
news, and asks that the broker make him a "little something" for the
tip.

With the news of Golding's death this broker enters the pit as a seller.
There are now but twenty minutes left before the closing of 'Change, yet
by cautious work he will be able to sell out his holdings at the
inflated prices that prevail. He alone of all the members of the
Exchange knows that the greatest American financier is dead. On the
morrow every stock on the list will depreciate. Now is the time for him
to unload.

A hundred bidders are eager to buy the stock he offers. He reaps a
fortune in the quarter of an hour before the 'Change closes; the rest of
the brokers heap up trouble for the morrow. Five minutes before three
the news of Golding's death is brought to the brokers. It is too late.
In their frenzy the men fear either to buy or sell. The floor is a
veritable bear pit. Men swear and rage in impotent grief as they realize
that they have brought ruin upon themselves by their rash speculation.

While this scene is in progress the world is being told of the death of
the great Fin