“See here, father, you forget me,” says John, laying a hand with some tenderness on the shoulder of his parent.
“In what way, my boy?” asks the speculator, almost dreamily.
“I may be able to assist you, sir.”
Aleck starts at the words—he wonders what they mean. Does John intend to give up his ill-gotten gains in order to save his father? That would be a singular thing indeed. Besides, Craig is enough of a business man to know it would not hold—that if the young man from Denver is arrested the funds he has embezzled must be seized, no matter in whose hands they happen to be at the time.
Nevertheless he is greatly interested by the intensely dramatic nature of the situation, and watches the three actors, who, engrossed in their own affairs, have entirely forgotten his presence. Dorothy, with her hands clasped before her, is surveying the other two, her eyes, filled with unshed tears, fixed upon John, as though his words have filled her with a sudden hope.
As for the speculator he raises his hand and places it on John’s, but there is no change in his despondent attitude. Only a convulsive movement running through his frame tells of the rush of emotion. This boy whom he so cruelly wronged loves him after all. It may be remorse that eats Samson Cereal’s soul. God knows!
“John, my boy, you are kind, but I know it is only done to cheer me up. I shall get over this, perhaps, but the shock has well-nigh unsettled my reason. Give me time to brush these cobwebs from my mind,” says Cereal soberly.
“That might be too late. Whatever is done must be done at once,” remarks John firmly.
He speaks with such an air of authority in his voice that the great operator raises his head, and draws a hand across his eyes. Used to depending wholly upon himself, this experience of having a staff to lean upon is something new.
“I like to hear you talk like that—it reminds me of what I have been in business. No difficulty was too great for me to attack and conquer. But this terrible summer, was its like ever known? Firms in which I had the most implicit confidence have gone under, and each one dragged me lower, until this last demand finishes all. Your intentions are good, John, but unless you are a wizard and can make fifty thousand dollars grow on a tree, I see no escape”—sadly, still patting the hand that rests on his.