Stephen Langdon left his chair. His face was cold, stern, expressionless. It wore the mask which long years in "the street," had given it. He did not look toward Duncan, but turned his face to the lawyer, and said, with cold preciseness:
"Mr. Melvin, you may say for me, to all who may be concerned, that I shall be prepared within an hour to meet all demands that may be made upon me."
With a slight inclination of his head, he left the office of the lawyer. He walked as erect as ever; he carried himself no less proudly, although he knew that he was going to his financial ruin unless the unexpected should happen. Twenty millions is a large sum to pay at an hour's notice. It was not a tithe of the fortune which Stephen Langdon was supposed to possess; yet his circumstances at the moment were such that terrible disaster would immediately follow upon the demand for its payment. He knew it; Melvin knew it; Roderick Duncan knew it. But the fighting blood of Roderick Duncan's father was surging in his son's soul, just then; and, in his day, "Old Man Duncan" had been a harder and a more relentless financier than ever his partner, Stephen Langdon, had become.
"You will not insist, will you, Roderick?" the lawyer asked, as soon as they were alone.
"I shall insist," replied Duncan, with decision.
"Even in the event that I might give you the information you seek? Even in that case, will you insist upon forcing your father's life-long friend to the wall? For that is what it will amount to."
"No. In that case I shall not insist upon calling in the loan. I seek only the information. It doesn't matter where I get it, so long as I do get it, and it proves to be correct. That is all I require."
The lawyer drew a pad of paper toward him and hastily wrote a few lines upon it. Then, tearing off the sheet, he rang a bell and gave the written message into the hand of a clerk.
"Mr. Langdon just left this office," he said. "Overtake him and give him this message. See to it that you do not fail to place it in his hands at once." He waited until the door had closed behind the retreating figure of the clerk; then he turned toward Duncan again.
"Mr. Langdon is only a very little wiser than yourself about what has happened to his daughter, during the last few weeks," he said, with a touch of coldness in his tones. "I am somewhat better informed than either of you, and in order to save my old friend from utter ruin—in order to save his life, for ruin would spell death to him—I shall tell you what you wish to know, even though I have been implored not to do so. Frankly, I believe it better that you should know the truth, only"—he hesitated a moment—"I shall ask you to remember who you are and what you are, and to govern yourself as your father's son should."