"Ah, I thought, perhaps--since you are leaving--it had been postponed."
Spots of red flamed in the banker's cheeks. "They've barred me from the meeting," he replied and hurried on.
Several hours later newsboys ran through San Francisco's streets: "EXTRA! EXTRA!" they screamed, "ALL ABOUT RALSTON'S SUICIDE."
CHAPTER LXV
INDUSTRIAL UNREST
About the Bank of California was a surging press of men and women. The doors of that great financial institution were closed, blinds drawn, as on the previous day. Now and then an officer or director passed the guarded portals. D.O. Mills was one of these, his stern, ascetic face more severe than usual.
Francisco Stanley pushed his way up to the carriage as it started.
"Will the bank reopen, Mr. Mills?" he asked, walking along beside the moving vehicle.
The financier's eyes glared from the inner shadows. "Yes, yes. Certainly," he snapped. "Very shortly ... as soon as we can levy an assessment" The coachman whipped up his horses; the carriage rolled off. Francisco turned to face his uncle. "What did he say?" asked Benito. Others crowded close to hear the young editor's answer. The word found it way through the crowd. "The bank will reopen.... They'll levy an assessment.... We won't lose a cent."