“Mr. Dawson,” said Grinnell, distinctly ignoring Mellen, “Mr. Mellen is one of your largest depositors, is he not?”
“Yes; he—”
“Do you insist upon his telling you where he gets the money that he deposits here?”
“Mr. Grinnell——”
“Is my gold any different from his gold? Is an Assay Office check not as good as an International Distributing Syndicate check? I don’t mean ethically, but financially.”
Mr. Mellen flushed. Mr. Dawson said with the dignity of suppressed anger: “It is not that; but if gold is to become as cheap as pig-iron——”
“Why should it?” interrupted Grinnell idly. “Does Mr. Mellen intend to give all his money to the poor?”
“This is——” began Mellen, in a rebuking voice.
“Mr. Grinnell,” said the president, still with much dignity, “we have no desire to pry into your private affairs. But great wealth means great responsibilities, and what is permissible to a pauper is not permissible to you. You must admit that there is no limit to the harm that can be done from a too rapid increase in the gold supply of the world.”
“I realize that. You agreed with me that an increase of one hundred millions a year, in addition to the normal output of the mines now in operation, was not excessive. Since I saw you I have carefully studied the matter”—Grinnell’s voice and manner showed profound conviction—“and I have come to the conclusion that the world could not only stand two hundred and fifty millions more than it is now getting, but be all the better for it. That is only a billion more in four years. Four years is a long time.” He looked pensive—as if he were thinking how very long that would be.