“Yes, and more. I made an investment with some of the money before I knew the bank was in trouble; then there's the double liability law. It wouldn't matter so much if it weren't for the trial.”
“Your sister, of course, will be ready to help you. Or has she, too, lost?”
“No,” said Donald, his lips tightening, “she hasn't lost. She's had no stock in the bank for a year. But I shan't call upon her.”
“Because she opposed your course so violently? Oh, I see. A point of honor on which I quite agree with you. But you are not going under, Donald. We will see to that. I am not a wealthy man, as you know. There have been times recently when the future looked very dark. But this little lady has steered us into calmer waters. If you should, in the course of the next few months, be in need of a reasonable sum, I am happy to say we will be in a position to accommodate you.”
Donald gripped his hand. “I shan't call on you, Doctor. But once I'm through with this accursed trial, I'll try to justify your belief in me.”
The tall clock in the hall gave a preliminary wheeze, then hiccoughed nine times violently. The Doctor carefully arranged his voluminous papers in a shabby, brown portfolio, and rose with an effort.
“You will excuse me now if I bid you good night? My physician has become rather arbitrary in regulating my hours. Keep up your courage, my boy; that courage that 'scorns to bend to mean devices for a sordid end.' I admire the course you have taken, I admire you. Good night to you both.”
They watched him go, with his tall, stooped figure, and his fine, serious eyes that saw life only through the stultifying medium of books. Then they looked at each other.
“I'll call Connie,” Miss Lady said, moving to the door.
“Just a minute, please.”