"Come, get down to the business in hand! Remember that you are dealing with Peter V. Wilkinson." He paused, and then added with a smile full of meaning: "Despite his being a ruined bank president."
Flomerfelt shook off his air of sinister sarcasm, squared his elbows on the desk, and was all attention.
"Now, then," continued Wilkinson, "what are we going to do with—with this incubus Ilingsworth?"
"Jug him, Peter! The man is dangerous—he's a bad one."
Wilkinson pulled away at his black cigar. This was a problem and he liked problems. Ilingsworth was in his power, and Wilkinson did not intend to let his chance slip by. Just then his eyes chanced to light on the scareheads of the extras on his desk:
Tri-State Trust Company Closes Its Doors
But the magnate felt no sensation on reading them. That very afternoon, for that matter, he had seen thousands of them on the streets; and so, they moved him not at all. Nevertheless, he tossed one to Flomerfelt.
"Pretty serious predicament, eh, Flomerfelt?" he said easily.