“I’m told the loan-sharks in St. Louis will advance a fellow money on his prospects. I wonder if they’d help me out of this hole. I’m the only son of a well-to-do banker, and will inherit a respectable lump of money, some day. Do you suppose they’d help me, Phil?”
“I don’t know, Eric. Such money lenders would be sure to demand a heavy interest.”
“That’s all right. It’s worth something to get my fist on the money when I want it.”
“What is it for?” asked Daring. “Why do you need this money?”
“To pay some of those infernal debts.”
“How much better off will you be afterward, Eric? Wouldn’t you contract more debts right away?”
“That’s my business,” growled the other. “Don’t you begin preaching to me, Phil Daring, for I won’t stand for it,” he added, glaring angrily at his fellow clerk.
Phil said no more, but he was sad and ill at ease. Eric was no longer the genial, winning fellow of former days. Since he had begun to spend money so recklessly and to run into debt, his character and disposition seemed to have altered for the worse. The thing Phil dreaded more than anything else was another raid on the bank money, with more of those audacious false records to cover up the defalcations. He was helpless to interfere, but none the less was he sincerely sorry for both Eric and his father, knowing that exposure was bound to follow sooner or later.
Singularly enough, Mr. Spaythe seemed blind to his son’s reckless extravagance. A thoughtful man, intent upon the intricate details of his banking business and absorbed in loans, notes and discounts, interests and important matters of a like character, the banker seemed not to notice Eric’s elaborate costumes or the fact that he passed much of his spare time in association with the fast set of the village, whose rendezvous was the hotel bar. On the contrary, Mr. Spaythe seemed contented with the thought that his son and heir was connected with his business and apparently doing his work faithfully and well.
On Wednesday Mr. Boothe was suffering from a bad headache when he came to work. It soon became so much worse that Phil had to assist him to reach his home—a little cottage not far away—where the cashier lived with a maiden sister.