“Who told you that?” cried Ford, half rising, with a sullen gleam in his eyes.
“Your bank!” cried Enoch sharply. “Its president, my old friend, John Mortimer, told me. Under criminal circumstances such information is not difficult to obtain.”
Enoch drove his hands in his pockets and started to pace the room. Ford was the first to break the silence that ensued. His voice had a whine in it, and most of the color had left his lean cheeks.
“You don’t want to ruin me, do yer?” he said thickly.
“Ruin you! No one can ruin you! You were born ruined! Answer me—where’s the rest of Miss Moulton’s money?”
“Spent,” faltered Ford. “You don’t suppose a man can live on nothin’, do yer? We all have our little ups and downs in business. Fluctuations, they call ’em. Why, the biggest men with the biggest business acumen, in the biggest business deals in the world have ’em. I ain’t no exception. That’s what all business is—chuck full of little ups and downs. No man ever complains when business is boomin’—only boomin’ is never regular. Good times pay for the bad. A feller has to have grit to weather ’em. Then, if we didn’t risk nothin’, we wouldn’t have nothin’. What does the Bible say? Sow and ye shall reap.”
His voice faltered weakly.
“See here,” returned Enoch. “If I’ve got the slightest pity for you, you personally are not responsible for it. Your stepdaughter is adorable. Your wife is an honest woman.”
“There ain’t no better,” declared Ford meekly, moistening his lips with a long finger that shook. “Girlie, too; her ideas ain’t mine, but I ain’t got nothin’ agin her.”
“Good gad, sir! I should hope not. You have not a thought in common! No dearer child ever lived! The very soul of honesty and sincerity—a joy to my house, sir! A joy to every one who has come in contact with her. That you should have so little love and respect for her as to have acted as you have is astounding!”