“Mr. Stark?” he repeated. He looked blank.
“Yes; he wants his money, Mr. Benson,” she said unsteadily. “And he dared to come here to you!” burst out Benson furiously. “He promised me he'd wait!”
It was that last loan made at the time of Stephen's marriage. While he had supplied the money himself, Stark had acted for him; but during the summer he had been forced to realize on the paper, and the banker had accepted it as security for one of the several loans he had made to him.
“I am sorry I troubled you, but I thought you might be able to tell me if there was anything that could be done.”
“I'll see him at once!” said Benson; but he was sick at heart with what she had told him. He saw that his misfortunes were extending to her.
He hurried back to the town, where he confronted the banker in his private office with a lowering brow.
“Ah, Jacob, take a chair,” said Mr. Stark, with a winning smile.
“See here,” said Benson abruptly, “I have just seen Mrs. Lan-dray.”
“Yes; I understand you go there quite frequently, Jacob,” and the old man laughed slyly.
Benson glared at him, speechless and white with rage.