“You are commencing to disturb the money-market. People have begun to wonder where the gold is coming from. The newspapers will take it up. You will find the financial reviews already speaking about it. It is lucky a lot of Klondike gold has been coming to New York lately. But unless you let up, there will be glaring headlines, and then—”
“The newspapers must not take it up,” said Mellen, almost tenderly. “That must be seen to, Richard. It must be stopped at any cost.” The president nodded.
The young man was thinking. He turned a perplexed face to Dawson.
“How long must I stop depositing my gold?”
“It isn’t so much a question of stopping as of reducing the amounts deposited.”
“I can’t reduce them. I must deposit several millions a week or stop altogether. My arrangements are peculiar because—” he paused; then went on quickly, with a smile as if pleased at being able to cease to flounder—“because I don’t like half-way measures. But I think I can stop for a month.” He thought for a moment. Somehow Mr. Mellen felt as if the young man were speaking of a factory. “Yes,” finished Grinnell, “I can stop for a month, Mr. Dawson, out of regard for what you say.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
“Then say nothing. I’ll make another deposit in a day of two, and then I’ll give you a nice long rest. How does that please you, Mr. Dawson?”
“Very much. Only be sure to do the same by all the other banks.” Dawson tried to show gratitude, but the anxiety was uppermost.
“I will.”