By a prodigious effort Bennett pulled himself together; his face was very pale.
“To provide that much cash, without warning, is impossible. I should have nothing left to do the bank’s business with; in fact, I have not half that amount of actual cash in the safe.”
He stood up and grasped the back of a chair—his knuckles were white as he gripped; his voice grew firmer.
“I’ll be open with you, gentlemen. I am too much extended; I am bitterly cramped for ready money. Give me time to turn round; don’t force me to take this money out of the business now. Once let the ordinary loans be refused to a few customers; let the rumor of it go abroad; let my Eastern creditors once hear of it—and I must inevitably stand a heavy loss. They will demand immediate payment, and that I cannot make without sacrifice.”
“What would your creditors think if they knew what we know?” answered Beck. “You’ll make your sacrifice right now, within forty-eight hours, for your preferred creditors, here present.”
“Baca! I appeal to you. Help me! I’ll be honest. To pay out this sum will not ruin me, but it’ll cripple me so that it may take me years to recover. At the very best I shall lose far more than the pitiful remnant of the Drake money you leave me. Give me time to turn round! Give me thirty days!”
“Thirty hours,” said Beck; “Monday morning.”
“I tell you it will cost me two dollars for every one I pay over to you now,” the banker pleaded. “Let me give you certificates of deposit.”
“That’s what you gave Drake!” said Scanlon.
For the first time in the somber silence that followed they heard the loud clock on the mantel—tick, tock—tick, tock—tick, tock!