Bofinger shook his head.
"No—no, not for a long while."
"Ah," Gilday ejaculated, at once mystified and enlightened. Then he added, "Do you lose much?"
"Everything!" Bofinger answered, and disappeared.
Everything for him meant no longer the dreamed-of millions, nor the half, nor the dower right; but, so swiftly had the perspective narrowed, every cent he had in the world. He had entered the bank, thanks to his plan of suing for conspiracy, certain of retaining at least $300,000, sum substantial and not to be despised. He staggered out with everything swept away into certain bankruptcy, thinking only of one thing, to reach his bank and withdraw the two thousand and odd dollars he had deposited the day before.
Still another shock was reserved for him. At the wicket the paying teller refused to honor his draft, saying:
"Sorry, Mr. Bofinger, but I've been served with an order restraining me from paying anything over to you."
"In whose name?" he cried aghast, and at a loss to divine the direction of the blow.
"Leopold Sammamon."