Roland Graeme: Knight. A Novel of Our Time

by Agnes Maule Machar

He told the story in German, partly for the sake of privacy, partly because when agitated he generally relapsed into his mother tongue. It was a sad and too common tale. He had been desperately anxious to make all he could, in the venture to which he had been encouraged by the opinion of such an "expert" as Mr.

Farrell and one of his clerks—that it was a "sure thing." He had embarked in it all his own little resources, only regretting that these were not greater, as he had the expectation of at least a ten-fold return.

"Pity you couldn't put in another five hundred!" his adviser had said; "couldn't you borrow it?"

"No," Waldberg had said. He couldn't ask Graeme, and Mr. Dunlop would never lend his money for speculation. "Get him to sign a note—you needn't say what for," said his tempter; "you'll be able to pay twice over before a month's past."

Just when he was most anxious for this additional stake, chance threw a temptation in his way. He found, in a book of Mr. Dunlop's an envelope on which he had written his own name, "Alexander C. Dunlop," with "Minton" below, evidently intended to be enclosed in a letter to some stranger, for the purpose of containing a reply. The sight of this put into his mind the idea of writing, above the signature, a joint note with his own signature above Mr. Dunlop's, the word, "Minton" coming in for the date. He cherished the thought, till it proved irresistible. It would only, he thought, be borrowing Mr. Dunlop's endorsement for a loan he would soon be able to repay. Without letting himself realize the wrong of it, the thing was done. And he had been counting on making an additional five thousand out of the five hundred he was now borrowing.

But now, contrary to the most confident expectations, the tide had suddenly turned—quotations had come down with a rush, and Waldberg, with many others, had lost his whole venture. And how was he, thus left penniless for the present, to face Mr. Dunlop when the note should fall due? He had drunk enough to "prime himself," and had come home to seek a rash release from his troubles.

Roland was terribly shocked. He could not understand how Waldberg could have done such a thing as this. But he saw that he was utterly wretched, and he would not add a straw, by reproach, to the burden he bore. "I shall be disgraced for ever," he said, "and it's all up now, about Kitty!"

"You shall not be disgraced, Hermann!" he said. "I know you will never do such a thing again. I think I can manage it so that no one will know, not even Mr. Dunlop; and he wouldn't be hard on you if he did; he's really fond of you!"

"But how, then?" asked Waldberg, bewildered in his turn.

"I can let you have a hundred dollars now, or when the note falls due. And I shall ask Mr. Dunlop to lend me the other four hundred for a time on my own note and yours. He'll do it if I ask him. And you can make it up by degrees."