“You wouldn’t feel so mighty bad about what I say, if you knew you had a ticket-of-leave jailbird for a partner.”
“Yes, you dirty, black-mailing thief!” answered Jim. “I know––and if you open your trap here or anywhere else, I’ll put you where you belong, whether Phil agrees to it or not,––see!
“You’re broke, Brenchfield. The bank has got you, and got you good. They’ll show you what squeezing is; damn you for what you are!
“Here’s your hat! Get out! And, by Heck!––as I open the door for you,––smile; for heaven’s sake, smile, and delude the staff that we’ve had a nice, genial, conversational love-feast.”
But Mayor Brenchfield’s jaunty air had departed. He tried hard to appear unconcerned as he hurried away, but the smile was frozen at the tap and refused to turn on.
“Things are getting lively,” remarked Jim. “Here are some more!”
The outer office was filled with inquirers.
All morning Phil and Jim were kept busy turning prospective money buyers down.
The news of the banks’ new attitude regarding the advancing of money on the security of realty had spread quickly. Property values flopped like a house of cards and interest rates soared sky-high.