“It does not yield you this much,” and Allison pushed toward him a little slip of paper on which were inscribed some figures.
The caller’s eyes widened as they read the sum. He smiled. He shrugged his shoulders. He pushed back the slip of paper.
“It is droll,” he laughed, and his laugh was nervous. He drew the slip of paper towards him again with a jerky little motion, then pushed it back once more.
“If your banking system found it impossible to be patriotic, your government would be compelled to raise money through other means. It would not withdraw from the war.”
“Never!” and the neat waisted caller once more touched himself on the breast.
“It would be compelled to negotiate a loan. If other governments, through some understanding among their bankers, found it difficult to provide this loan, your government would find it necessary to release its ownership, or at least its control, of its most valuable commercial possession.”
The caller, who had followed Allison’s progressive statement with interest, gave a quick little nod of his head.
“That most valuable commercial possession,” went on Allison, “is the state railways. You were convinced by my agent that there is a new and powerful force in the world, or you would not be here. Suppose I point out that it is possible to so cramp your banking system that you could not help your country, if you would; suppose I show you that, in the end, your ancient enemy will lose its identity, while your country remains intact; suppose I show you that the course I have proposed is the only way open which will save your country from annihilation? What then?”
The neat waisted caller, with the first slow motion he had used since he came into the room, drew the slip of paper towards him again.
There followed another banker, a ruddy-faced man whose heavy features were utterly incapable of emotion; and he sat at Allison’s table in thick-jowled solidity.