“Waterman protect Prentice,” spelled Rodney. “Insist turn out Ryder. Withdraw funds.”
“There's no doubt of it,” whispered Bates; “they can finish him if they choose. But oh, my Lord, what will happen in New York to-morrow!'
“Ward protect legitimate banks,” was the next message.
“The little whelp!” sneered Bates. “By legitimate banks he means those that back his syndicates. A lot of protecting he will do!”
But then the newspaper man in Bates rose to the surface. “Oh, what a story,” he whispered, clenching his hands, and pounding his knees. “Oh, what a story!”
Montague carried away but a faint recollection of the rest of Rodney's communications; he was too much overwhelmed by his own thoughts. Bates, however, continued to spell out the words; and he caught the statement that General Prentice, who was a director in the Gotham Trust, was to vote against any plan to close the doors of that institution. While they were after it, they were going to finish it.
Also he caught the sentence, “Panic useful, curb President!” And he heard Bates's excited exclamations over that. “Did you catch that?” he cried. “That's Waterman! Oh, the nerve of it! We are in at the making of history to-night, Mr. Montague.”
Perhaps half an hour later, Montague, standing beside Bates, saw his hand jerked violently several times.
“That means pull up!” cried he. “Quick!”
And he seized the rope. “Put your weight on it,” he whispered. “It will hold.”