David ignored his companion’s quibble. “You said there was a reason—?”
“There was—and is.” He faced David squarely. “Maybe you have heard rumors of it, Davy, and you’re the first and last man that I’ll ever tell this to—and it’s as straight as—you are.”
“Thanks,” said David, a bit briefly.
“The pater’s dipped. Every cent he has is tied up in the N. M. & Q., and the road’s costing more to build than he figured on. Bernard, White & Bascomb are stung, and that’s all there is to it. It isn’t the first time either. The Interurban contract, two years ago, panned out bad. The pater tried to recoup on the market. You can guess the rest. His personal account wouldn’t pay my laundry bill. When I wrote to him about the asbestos on Lost Farm, he jumped at the chance to float that scheme and organized the Northern Improvement Company, on his nerve and a little business prestige. To come down to the ghastly, Davy, Northern Improvement capital has been paying our current expenses. If that deal falls through,”—Bascomb’s lips curled sarcastically,—“it’s the front page in the Yellow Horrors for us, and God knows what they’ll do to the pater. Of course I can dig up something out of the wreck, but Bessie—”
“I’m glad you told me,” interrupted David. “Now I appreciate your position—and my own. It makes it less difficult for me to go ahead with my scheme.”
“I knew you would,” replied Bascomb, misunderstanding him. “In fact, I told the pater that nothing this side of flowers and little Davy in the front carriage would stop you. So you’re going to put your deal through?”
“Yes, if I can swing it, but that depends on you and your father.”
“Correct, my jewel. Of course it’s a big thing for you. To buck the pater and his illustrious son takes nerve, doesn’t it, Davy?”
“More than that. But see here, Walt, my partnership with Avery means nothing more than a working interest. I don’t own a foot of the land. I’m here to interest capital, though. Then mine the stuff and market it. Of course I expect to make something, and I’m willing to risk what little capital I have.”
“I have told Bessie about all there is to tell,” said Bascomb, watching David’s face closely. “She said she knows you won’t give it up, even if it indirectly sends us to the bread-line.”