Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

Friday, the out, a big seriousness in his splendid eyes. "He is a foolish boy, but I like him," she mused. She stood looking after him thoughtfully. "I don't quite know what he means, but it's for my benefit he is thinking, and I'm grateful. Oh, I do hope he isn't hurt much when the crash comes. " Judge Sands carried the business secrets Beulah had given him to Stevens & Co., rival brokers of the Brownleys and old friends of the judge. Their first move was to set afloat a rumor that Salanico Steel was about to declare a dividend. The false tip came to Bob Brownley, who had flung himself feverishly into finance, determined to think only in terms of dollars, though a lovely face persisted in peering up at him from his desk. It was on a Friday — Friday, the thirteenth— that he received the tip. And it so excited and exhilarated him that he marked the date on his calendar with a red circle. "Who says there's bad luck in that combination?" he chuckled, and sent out hot messages to buy Salanico — to the huge delight of Stevens and Judge Sands, who were able to unload their holdings of the stock upon the Brownleys and their associates. They sold short, to make the crash all the more complete. It was a wild day on the Stock Exchange that Friday, the thirteenth. Bob's frantic buying induced other brokers to follow suit, and through the day sweating men surged to and fro on the floor of the Exchange, screaming till their voices became as the croaking of ravens. Half an hour before the market closed, Beulah received a cablegram from the Brownleys' representative at a secret conference of the European powers. It was in code, but she had access to the secret drawer in Bob's desk where the code book was kept. Thirteenth 107 There were just three words, but they were of tremendous importance : War to continue. Peter Brownley and his son were on the floor of the Exchange. In half an hour the business day would end. If she sent that cablegram to her employers, they would conclude they had had a right tip and continue to buy — and to buy Salanico now was the surest road to wealth. The message staggered her. Stevens had insisted that Salanico was a "goner" — that "peace was in the air." The cablegram stared her in the face, its laconic sentence burning into her brain. With the continuance of war, Salanico would have a new boost — and her father would grip hands with ruin a second time. It was not to be thought of. Half an hour ! What could she accomplish in half an hour? Bob Brownley, disheveled but happy, tore open the message which had come to him from the office. A cablegram — he held it above the heads of the thronsr and read it with staring eyes. Three words in code it contained, the last word a bit blurred, but all too legible, and beneath was a typewritten translation, signed "B." Three words : War to cease. ' White-lipped, he gathered his father and their associates about him. "Sell!" he shrieked. "Sell — at any price!" Like madmen they strove to get rid of their holdings. The bottom would drop out of steel on a declaration of peace — and that meant stark, staring ruin. Men lost their heads in the wild panic that ensued. It was a scene unforgetable. Young men, old men, haggard men, bearded men, and men clean shaven were jumping about and waving papers as if they had suddenly been attacked by St. Vitus5 dance. In the midst of it Bob s waved. Diz