It appeared that Mr. Phillips said little which was of immediate solace. He professed confidence unbounded. C. M. was a good stock, it was going higher, all they had to do was wait until it did.
"Yes," put in Sears, "that's good advice, maybe, but it's too much like tellin' a man who can't swim to keep up till the tide goes out and he'll be in shallow water. The trouble is neither that man nor you could keep afloat so long. Is that all he said? He understands your position, doesn't he, George?"
Yes, Mr. Phillips understood, but he could do nothing to help. He had no money to lend—had practically nothing except the two one thousand dollar bonds, and those were deposited as collateral with the brokers.
"Um—ye-es," drawled Kendrick. "Those bonds are interestin' of themselves. We'll come to those pretty soon. But hasn't he got any ready money? Seems as if he must have a little. Why, you paid him sixteen hundred in cash and, accordin' to your story, he sent only twelve hundred along with the bonds. He must have four hundred left, at least. That is, unless he's been heavin' overboard more 'crumbs' that you don't know about."
Kent knew nothing of his partner's resources beyond what the latter had told him. And, at any rate, what good would four hundred be to him? Unless he could raise eight hundred within the week——
"Yes, yes, yes, I know. But four hundred is half of eight hundred and seems to me if I was in his shoes and had been responsible for gettin' you into a clove hitch like this I'd do what I could to get you out. And he couldn't—or wouldn't—do anything; eh?"
"He can't, Cap'n Kendrick. He can't. Don't you see, he hasn't got it. He's poor, himself. Of course he came here to Bayport, after his wife's death, thinking that he owned the Fair Harbor property and—and a lot more. Why, he thought he was rich. He didn't know that old Knowles had used his influence with Mrs. Phillips when she was half sick and tricked her into——"
"Here, here!" The captain's tone was rather sharp this time. "Never mind that. Old Knowles, as you call him, was a friend of mine.... I thought he was your friend, too, George, for the matter of that."
George was embarrassed. "Well, he was," he admitted. "I haven't got anything against him; in fact he was very good to me. But that is what Mr. Phillips says, you know, and everybody—or about everybody—seems to believe it. At least they are awfully sorry for Phillips."
"So I judged. But about you, now. Do you believe in—er—Saint Egbert as much as you did?"