“No fear of that. If I had ten thousand dollars to-day, I would put every cent of it into Bustumups. If you want two, three or five hundred shares of it, I will get them for you at the lowest figure. Your name, you know, would help the thing along.”
My name! Of course I was flattered. If I could have raised four or five thousand dollars, I should have been glad to give the company the benefit of my name!
“I should like to go in, but I have no capital,” I replied, with the modesty of a man without means.
“Do as I did!” exclaimed Cormorin, in whom the champagne had now banished every thing like caution.
“How did you do?”
“I used the bank funds!” he replied, hitting the table a tremendous rap. “But I don’t mean that the bank shall ever lose a single cent by me. I mean to be honest. I mean to pay every cent I borrow. I don’t see why money should lie idle in my drawer in the bank, when I can make something out of it, without wronging, cheating or defrauding man, woman or child. Glasswood, give me your hand. I have spoken frankly to you. If you betray me, of course I shall have to take the next steamer for foreign parts, and I’m afraid the bank would then be the loser by the operation.”
“I will never betray you,” I replied, clasping his offered hand.
“Thank you, Glasswood! You are a noble fellow. To-morrow those infernal directors will examine into the condition of our bank. My cash is five thousand short—just the sum I paid for the Ballyhacks. You understand me?”
I had drank so much champagne that I not only understood, but sympathized with him. He had done just what I had, though I was not stupid enough to betray myself to him.
“I understand you, Cormorin,” I replied. “Go on and tell me what you are driving at just as though I were your own brother.”