"You know—better than any one. I am not to be trusted with any such sum of money."
"Call it Garvin's, then. I don't know how you feel toward Jim, but I've always found him a man to tie to."
A woman would have said that Jeffard turned aside to hide an upflash of emotion, though a clot on the pen was the excuse. But it was the better part of him that made answer.
"I owe him my life—twice, Dick. By all the known hypotheses of honor and gratitude and common decency I ought to be true to him now, in this his day of helplessness. But when one has eaten and drunk and slept with infamy"—
The cashier's step was on the stair, and Bartrow cut in swiftly.
"Jeffard, you make me weary!—and, incidentally, you're killing precious time. Can't you see that trust isn't a matter of much or little? If you can't, why just name the amount for which you'd be tempted to drop Garvin, and we'll cut under it so as to be on the safe side."
"But I sha'n't need a fifth of this," Jeffard objected, wavering.
"You are liable to need more. You must remember that ten minutes hence you'll be trying to subsidize a railroad company. Sign that note and quit quibbling about it."
The thing was done, but when the money had changed hands, Jeffard quibbled again.
"If the worst comes, you can't afford to pay that note, Bartrow; and my probability hangs on a hundred hazards. What if I fail?"