Next morning Mallock closed the door behind him promptly upon the stroke of eight. It was strange that not one living soul but Mallock had ever entered Newmark's abode. Curiosity had at first brought a few callers; but these were always met by the imperturbable servant with so plausible a reason for his master's absence that the visitors had departed without a suspicion that they had been deliberately excluded. And as Newmark made no friends and excited little interest, the attempts to cultivate him gradually ceased.
“Orde,” said Newmark, as the former entered the office, “I think I can arrange this matter.”
Orde drew up a chair.
“I talked last evening with a man from Detroit named Thayer, who thinks he may advance seventy-five thousand dollars on a mortgage on our northern peninsula stumpage. For that, of course, we will give the firm's note with interest at ten per cent. I will turn this over to you.”
“That's—” began Orde.
“Hold on,” interrupted Newmark. “As collateral security you will deposit for me your stock in the Boom Company, indorsed in blank. If you do not pay the full amount of the firm's note to Thayer, then the stock will be turned in to me.”
“I see,” said Orde.
“Now, don't misunderstand me,” said Newmark drily. “This is your own affair, and I do not urge it on you. If we raise as much as seventy-five thousand dollars on that upper peninsula stumpage, it will be all it can stand, for next year we must make a third payment on it. If you take that money, it is of course proper that you pay the interest on it.”
“Certainly,” said Orde.
“And if there's any possibility of the foreclosure of the mortgage, it is only right that you run all the risk of loss—not myself.”