“I am sure,” said Mr. Stanton, “that no one regretted more than I do the disastrous result. Indeed, I had reason to do so, for I was myself involved, and suffered considerable loss.”
“I am aware now that you were concerned in the matter,” said Ralph, significantly.
“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Stanton, quickly, detecting something peculiar in his tone.
“I will tell you. You were right in denouncing the management as knavish. The company was got up by knaves, on a basis of fraud, and was from the first intended as a trap for the unwary. But there is one important circumstance which you have neglected to mention.”
“What is that?” asked Mr. Stanton, in a voice which strove to be composed.
“I mean this,” said Ralph, firmly, “that you yourself were the prime originator of the company—that you engineered it through to the end—that you invested my money with the express intention of converting it to your own profit. I charge you with this, that all, or nearly all the property I lost, went into your pocket.”
The color came and went in Mr. Stanton's face. He seemed staggered by this sudden and unexpected accusation, and did not at first make reply.
Feeling forced to speak at last, he said: “This is very strange language, Mr. Pendleton.”
“It is unexpected, no doubt, for after all these years you probably thought it would remain forever unknown; but in what respect is it strange? I have given you a statement of facts as directly as I could.”
“They are not facts. Your charge is wholly false,” said the merchant, but his tone was not that of a man who speaks the truth boldly.