"Pshaw—your gains—where are they?"
"That's nothing to the point. Did I not promise?"
"Well—well."
"And now, after all my labour and struggling, because I have failed, you wish to turn me off, and throw me to the world. Now, speak the truth, man—is it not so?"
Oh! Planner was a cunning creature, and so was Michael Allcraft. Mark them both! This idea, which Planner deemed too good to be seriously entertained by his colleague, had never once occurred to Michael; but it seemed so promising, and so likely, if followed up, to relieve him effectually of his greatest plague, and of any floating ill report, that he found no hesitation in adopting it at once. He did not answer, but he tried to look as if his partner had exactly guessed his actual intention. Such §* gentlemen both!
* Transcriber's Note: Original cut off between §s—Section completed with best guess of correct wording.
"I thought so," continued the injured Planner. "Michael, you do not know me. You do not understand my character. I am a child to persuade, but a rock if you attempt to force me. I shall not desert the bank, whilst there is a chance of paying back all that we have drawn."
"We, sir?"
"Yes—we. You and I together for our schemes, and you alone for private purposes. You recollect your father's debts"—