“Yes, but it’s a hot time to get after it,” grumbled Peter. “After your paper scooped us! Was it your yarn?”
“It was,” said Larry, with justifiable pride.
“I might have known it,” went on the Scorcher’s reporter. “You have us all skinned. How’d you do it?”
“That’s telling,” replied Larry, with a smile.
“I came here to get the story, after some sort of a tip had come in the office,” went on Peter, “but there was nothing doing. Bentfield turned me down.”
“Yes, I saw you,” admitted Larry. “But what’s up now?”
Indeed, it was evident that something unusual was in the wind, for President Bentfield was talking excitedly to the clerks and cashiers back of the brass grill, and the anxious depositors, who wanted to withdraw their money, were looking on curiously.
“Gentlemen, your attention for one moment!” suddenly called the bank president, mounting on a box in order to see and be seen. “I wish to make an announcement. After it is over you are all at liberty to withdraw every dollar of your deposits. The bank will remain open for that purpose all night if necessary. But I wish to state that, in spite of the heavy loss we have sustained, we can meet every cent of our obligations. Every depositor can be paid in full, and we will still be doing business. There is no need of a run. Take your time.”
“That’s easy to say!” exclaimed a nervous woman.
“And easy to prove!” retorted the president quickly. “If you will appoint a delegation I will have the members of it admitted to our vaults. We have cash enough on hand to pay every depositor in full, and I’ll show it to you!”