"I'm going to sell you up when the mortgage falls in. You have some time yet."
"Can't you renew the loan upon any terms?"
"No," said Davies truthfully. "I would if I could. I have to meet my engagements and money's scarce."
Carlyon got up, turning an unlighted cigar in nervous fingers, but there was a smile in his eyes that showed he could face ruin with dignity.
"Then, if that's your last word, I needn't waste your time; and it wouldn't be fair to blame you for my foolishness. I dare say I can find a job as teamster; it seems the only thing that's left."
"You have grit. I'm sorry I can't keep you on your feet," Davies answered with more feeling than Carlyon had expected.
"Thanks. Mowbray's waiting outside; I'll send him in."
Davies looked up when the door opened a few moments later. Gerald's careless manner had gone; he showed obvious signs of strain. Indeed, there was something in his face that hinted at desperation. Davies was not surprised at this. After a curt greeting he took up the newspaper.
"I expect you have seen the report of the company's meeting."
"I have," said Gerald. "It doesn't leave much to the imagination. At last, the directors have treated us with brutal frankness. I've filled up my proxy in favor of appointing a committee to investigate."