eleven o'clock
Glad you think so , '' Mr. Redell replied , beaming upon him . `` And just to show you I 'm right , I 'll not breathe a word of it to the Chronicle man . '' Having planted his journalistic bomb , Mr. Redell glanced at his watch . It was exactly eleven o'clock . `` I still have time , '' he murmured , and departed immediately to the office of Gregg of December wheat , but to cease selling the instant the market hesitated to absorb it or the price broke a point . At the same moment , in another brokerage office , Cappy Ricks was issuing a similar order . Before the market closed , Cappy had succeeded in selling a hundred and eighty thousand bushels , while Redell had disposed of a hundred and thirty .