“The bank’s blown up!” said he.
“No, it ain’t,” rejoined Potts.
“Why not?”
“There’s gold enough to pay all that’s likely to be offered.”
“How much more do you think will be offered?”
“Not much; it stands to reason.”
“It stands to reason that every note which you’ve issued will be sent back to you. So I’ll trouble you to give me my sixty thousand; and I advise you as a friend to hold on to the rest.”
“Clark!” said Potts, “you’re getting timider and timider. You ain’t got any more pluck these times than a kitten.”
“It’s a time when a man’s got to be careful of his earnings,” said Clark. “How much have you out in notes? You told me once you had out about £180,000, perhaps more. Well, you’ve already had to redeem about £75,000. That leaves £105,000 yet, and you’ve only got £67,000 to pay it with. What have you got to say to that?”
“Well!” said Potts. “The Brandon Bank may go—but what then? You forget that I have the Brandon estate. That’s worth two millions.”