He rose from his seat. It was perfectly evident that the game was over, and only the tumult and shouting remained to die away. But Mr. Murch was not entirely through.
"Suppose we ask Mr. Belknap to come and talk it over," he proposed.
O'Connor shook his head.
"Don't do it. It would hurt your market. If he were seen coming in here at this time, the whole Street would know we were in trouble and getting ready to quit. It would be better to make an appointment with him somewhere else."
"As you say," agreed Murch. "Please arrange one for us as soon as possible."
"All right," said the man whom this operation would leave bare of position and prestige alike. "I'll get him on the phone at once."
It was late that afternoon when a three-cornered interview took place in a down-town office somewhat outside the customary espionage of William Street. Most of the talking was done by Mr. Simeon Belknap, who talked crisply and to the point.
"The figures you have given me, Mr. Murch," he said, "indicate that the Salamander's capital is impaired to the probable extent of several hundred thousand dollars. I assume from your coming to me in this way, that you have decided that it is not worth while trying to put the company on its feet. Is that correct?"
"How much would it cost to keep going?" asked the financier, bluntly.
"I should think you would have to assess your stock one hundred and fifty dollars a share. Yes, it would take $750,000 to put the Salamander in a position to continue in business with proper resources."