"I can't make any further advances till your present acceptances are met in Philadelphia. We have half a million of them."
"That payroll has got to be disbursed."
"I'm sorry, but I can't cash that check."
The lines on the older man's face tightened and deepened. "Mr. Brewster, we have spent some fifteen millions of capital through your bank. This amount is too small to discuss. Do you realize that, if you persist, the men will go unpaid for the first time in seven years?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't help that." The young manager began to feel more fortified.
"Is this because there's a temporary interruption at the rail mill?" said Clark bitterly. "You're assuming a big responsibility."
"I regret that I can give no reasons, and am only doing what seems best in the interest of the bank. If the acceptances are met,—and the first falls due two weeks from to-day—our head office will probably authorize a further advance, provided we are secured. Under the circumstances your Philadelphia office should take care of this matter."
"And this is your last word?" snapped Clark with emphasis.
But Brewster had by this time completely pulled himself together. The most trying moment was passed, and for once the mesmeric influence had failed. He felt behind him the authority of Thorpe and his own directors, and revolted at the thought of imperiling his own record.
"You understand," came in Clark's voice, "what happens when men are not paid—especially the type of many of our employees. The Swede and Hungarian are apt to be ugly. Further—an unpaid payroll has a bad effect on a company's securities, to say nothing of the effect on business confidence in St. Marys. You have, of course, weighed all this."