“I never thought about it,” answered William simply. There was a mild astonishment on his face, as if at his own forgetfulness of his brother’s interest.
“You didn’t, either, Dawson, did you?” said George coldly.
“My dear George, I certainly thought William was selling for both of you. He always does, you know,” said Dawson.
“Oh, have it that way, George; have it that way if it will please you.” Then to Dawson: “Sell George’s bonds, lump results and strike an average,” said William Mellen resignedly. Then, with sudden irritation: “It’s a case of life and death, not of a few dollars.” He began to walk up and down the office, lost in thought. Mechanically he took a small pad from the elaborately carved mahogany table in the centre of the room, walked to an arm-chair by the farthest window, sat down and presently began to jot down figures with a lead-pencil, while Dawson told to George B. Mellen the story of Grinnell.
“But the thing is impossible,” said George angrily.
“Absolutely!” assented the bank president, almost amiably. “You are right, George.” He looked at George with a subtle felicitation in his eyes—at George’s intellect. “But,” he went on gently, “everything you think we’ve already thought. We didn’t go off at half-cock, George. It took facts to convince us. We know that the man can and probably will flood the world with gold. I have no doubt of it. Neither has William. Now, give me the list of your bonds and—”
“And I thought I was getting bargains,” said George Mellen bitterly. “I might have known William’s hand was in it. I thought people had gone crazy, and were being prepared for a grand boom, manufactured on the premises! I tell you,” he exploded suddenly, “there’s a trick somewhere!”
William Mellen looked up suddenly, and stared uncomprehendingly at his brother, his mind still on his figures and calculations.
“No,” went on George, “I don’t mean you. I mean in this Grinnell affair.”
“He has on deposit in this bank some forty millions, and about eight or ten more with other banks.”