"It is very clear to me. Matters are going from bad to worse. There is no doubt that Ronco has failed."
"Well, and if he has? We are not Ronco. He was involved in all sorts of other speculations. If he had stuck to land and building he would be as sound as ever."
"For another month, perhaps. Do you know why he is ruined?"
"By his own fault, as people always are. He was rash."
"No rasher than we are. I believe that the game is played out. Ronco is bankrupt because the bank with which he deals cannot discount any more bills this week."
"And why not?"
"Because the foreign banks will not take any more of all this paper that is flying about. Those small failures in the summer have produced their effect. Some of the paper was in Paris and some in Vienna. It turned out worthless, and the foreigners have taken fright. It is all a fraud, at best—or something very like it."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me the truth, Don Orsino—have you seen a centime of all these millions which every one is dealing with? Do you believe they really exist? No. It is all paper, paper, and more paper. There is no cash in the business."
"But there is land and there are houses, which represent the millions substantially."