CHAPTER L. — THE BANK DIRECTORS.
The bank doors were closed, and the bank directors were left to their own refections. Clark had been in through the day, and at the critical moment his feelings had overpowered him so much that he felt compelled to go over to the inn to get something to drink, wherewith he might refresh himself and keep up his spirits.
Potts and John remained in the bank parlor. The clerks had gone. Potts was in that state of dejection in which even liquor was not desirable. John showed his usual nonchalance.
“Well, Johnnie,” said Potts, after a long silence, “we’re used up!”
“The bank’s bursted, that’s a fact. You were a fool for fighting it out so long.”
“I might as well. I was responsible, at any rate.”
“You might have kept your gold.”
“Then my estate would have been good. Besides, I hoped to fight through this difficulty. In fact, I hadn’t any thing else to do.”
“Why not?”
“Smithers & Co,”
“Ah! yes.”
“They’ll be down on me now. That’s what I was afraid of all along.”
“How much do you owe them?”
“Seven hundred and two thousand pounds.”
“The devil! I thought it was only five hundred thousand.”
“It’s been growing every day. Its a dreadful dangerous thing to have unlimited credit.”
“Well, you’ve got something as an offset. The debts due the bank.”
“Johnnie,” said Potts, taking a long breath, “since Clark isn’t here I don’t mind telling you that my candid opinion is them debts isn’t worth a rush. A great crowd of people came here for money. I didn’t hardly ask a question. I shelled out royally. I wanted to be known, so as to get into Parliament some day. I did what is called ‘going it blind.’”
“How much is owing you?”
“The books say five hundred and thirteen thousand pounds—but it’s doubtful if I can get any of it. And now Smithers & Co. will be down on me at once.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Haven’t you thought?”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Well, I have.”
“What?”
“You’ll have to try to compromise.”
“What if they won’t?”
John shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing.
“After all,” resumed Potts, hopefully, “it can’t be so bad. The estate is worth two millions.”
“Pooh!”
“Isn’t it?”
“Of course not. You know what you bought it for.”
“That’s because it was thrown away.”
“Well, it’ll have to be thrown away again.”
“Oh, Smithers & Co.‘ll be easy. They don’t care for money.”
“Perhaps so. The fact is, I don’t understand Smithers & Co. at all. I’ve tried to see through their little game, but can’t begin to do it.”
“Oh, that’s easy enough! They knew I was rich, and let me have what money I wanted.”
John looked doubtful.
At this moment a rap was heard at the back door.
“There comes Clark!” said he.
Potts opened the door. Clark entered. His face was flushed, and his eyes bloodshot.
“See here,” said he, mysteriously, as he entered the room.
“What?” asked the others, anxiously.
“There’s two chaps at the inn. One is the Italian—”
“Langhetti!”
“Ay,” said Clark, gloomily; “and the other is his mate—that fellow that helped him to carry off the gal. They’ve done it again this time, and my opinion is that these fellows are at the bottom of all our troubles. You know whose son he is.”
Potts and John exchanged glances.
“I went after that devil once, and I’m going to try it again. This time I’ll take some one who isn’t afraid of the devil. Johnnie, is the dog at the Hall?”
“Yes.”
“All right!” said Clark. “I’ll be even with this fellow yet, if he is in league with the devil.”
With these words Clark went out, and left the two together. A glance of savage exultation passed over the face of Potts.
“If he comes back successful,” said he, “all right, and if he doesn’t, why then”—He paused.
“If he doesn’t come back,” said John, finishing the sentence for him, “why then—all righter.”