“Perhaps there is. It would not help us at the present moment. We must compromise with him, if we can find him in time. Of course, even if the bank closed, we would pay everything when there was time to realize. But that is not the point. It would mean trouble and disaster, and would probably result in other failures all through one man’s rascality.”
“Then it all resolves itself to this. Staples must be found quietly and negotiated with. Mr. Temple, let me undertake the finding of him, and the negotiating, also, if you will trust me.”
“Do you know him?”
“Never saw him in my life.”
“Here is his portrait. He is easily recognized from that. You couldn’t mistake him. He is probably living at Montreal under an assumed name. He may have sailed for Europe. You will say nothing of this to anybody?”
“Certainly not. I will leave on to-night’s train for Montreal, or on the first train that goes.”
Young Mr. Brown slipped the photograph into his pocket and shook hands with the banker. Somehow his confident, alert bearing inspired the old man with more hope than he would have cared to admit, for, as a general thing, he despised the average young man.
“How long can you hold out if this does not become public?”
“For a month at least; probably for two or three.”
“Well, don’t expect to hear from me too soon. I shall not risk writing. If there is anything to communicate, I will come myself.”