“I can't take it,” Porter said to Crane. “Allis is more familiar with the circumstances of the bet—if there was one—than I. It must just rest with her; she's the man now, you know,” he added, plaintively; “I'm but a broken wreck, and what she says goes.”
“But there's a payment on Ringwood falling due in a few days,” Crane remonstrated, even as he had to Mrs. Porter.
Porter collapsed, fretfully. He could stand out against prospective financial stringency, but actual obligations for which he had no means quite broke down his weakened energy. He had forgotten about this liability, that is, had thought the time of payment more distant. He would be forced to recall the money he had given Dixon to bet on Lucretia for the Derby, to meet this payment to the bank.
Quite despondently he answered the other man. “I had forgotten all about it; this shake-up has tangled my memory. I can pay the money, though,” he added, half defiantly; “it will hamper me, but I can do it.”
A sudden thought came to Crane, an inspiration. “I've got it!” he exclaimed.
Porter brightened up; there was such a world of confidence in the other's manner.
“We'll just let this Diablo money stand against the payment which is about due on Ringwood; put it in the bank to cover it, so to speak; later we can settle to whom it belongs. At present it seems to be nobody's money; it's seldom one sees a few thousand going abegging for an owner,” he added, jocularly. “You say it isn't yours; I know it isn't mine; and most certainly it doesn't belong to the bookmaker, for he's lost it fair and square. We can't let him keep it; they win enough of the public's money.”
Reluctantly, Porter gave a half-hearted acquiescence. He would have sacrificed tangible interests to leave the money that was in Dixon's hands with him to bet on Lucretia. It would be like not taking the tide at its flood to let her run unbacked when her chances of winning were so good, and the odds against her great enough to insure a big return.
It was after banking hours, quite toward evening, by the time Crane had obtained this concession. He had brought the winnings for John Porter's acceptance, should the latter prove amenable to reason. Now it occurred to him that he might leave the money with one of the bank staff, who could deposit it the next day.
Crane drove back to the village and went at once to the cashier, Mr. Lane's house. He was not at home; his wife thought perhaps he was still in the bank. Crane went there in search of him. He found only Mortimer, who had remained late over his accounts. From the latter Crane learned that the cashier had driven over to a neighboring town.