"I've got to save myself from going under," he said in a whining tone. "I've got notes to pay, and three hundred thousand dollars won't cover them. I ought to have a million."
"Let's see the statement of your liabilities," said Partridge.
Peter Bolton fumbled in his inside coat pocket, brought out a large pocket-book, untied the string with which he had secured it, and then looked through its bulging compartments.
"I don't like to show it," he complained. "It's Private Business, and I don't like to trust any one with my Private Business."
"Suit yourself," said Partridge. "Try some other place if you like."
Peter Bolton's trembling hand brought out a sheet of paper from one of the recesses of the pocket-book, and passed it over to Partridge.
"There it is," he said. "You can see I've got to have money right away. If I don't pay them notes, I'll be posted on the Exchange; and you can't afford to have that happen. If I go down, there'll be such a smash in the markets as you've never seen. I shan't go down alone."
Partridge rapidly drew his pencil through several of the items of Peter Bolton's statement.
"Those will renew," he said. "You can get four hundred thousand from the banks on the securities you have in your hand. Three hundred thousand will be enough for us to let you have. It will see you through."
"I don't see how I am to get along without more than that," said Peter Bolton, with a slow shake of the head. "But I'll do the best I can with it." He gave the outward evidences of dissatisfaction, but there was an undertone of triumph in his voice, inaudible to any ear but mine.