“Don’t—don’t speak to me,” cried the Major hoarsely.
“I must,—I shall,” said Clive quietly. “You are terribly upset by this news; but did I not send you a message—have I not told you that there is no cause for anxiety?”
“What, sir, when all London is ringing with the collapse of your scheme, and people are selling right and left for anything they can get.”
“Poor fools! yes,” said Clive calmly. “They will smart for it afterwards.”
“What!” cried the Major, trying to rise from his seat, but Clive pressed him back. “I tell you all London is ringing with the bursting of the bubble.”
Clive smiled.
“With the miserable, contemptible rumour put about by some scheming scoundrel to make money out of the fears of investors.”
“What! There, sir, it is of no use. I know what you will say—that the shares will recover shortly. Bah! Nonsense! Some of you have made your money by your speculation; and poor, weak, trusting fools like me, as you say, must smart for it.”
“Major Gurdon,” said Clive sadly, “you ought to have had more confidence in the man you made your friend.”
“Confidence! I gave you all my confidence, and you have ruined me.”