Ovington's Bank

  Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books

  Transcriber's Notes:

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  2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].

  OVINGTON'S BANK

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  * * * * *

  THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF THE NEW RECTOR THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE THE MAN IN BLACK UNDER THE RED ROBE MY LADY ROTHA MEMOIRS OF A MINISTER OF FRANCE THE RED COCKADE SHREWSBURY THE CASTLE INN SOPHIA COUNT HANNIBAL IN KINGS' BYWAYS THE LONG NIGHT THE ABBESS OF VLAYE STARVECROW FARM CHIPPINGE LAID UP IN LAVENDER THE WILD GEESE THE GREAT HOUSE

  OVINGTON'S BANK

  BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN Author of "A Gentleman of France," "Count Hannibal," "The Castle Inn," "The Great House," etc., etc.

  NEW YORK LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 55 FIFTH AVENUE 1922

  Copyright, 1922 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN

  MADE IN THE UNITED STATES

  OVINGTON'S BANK

  CHAPTER I

  It was market day at Aldersbury, the old county town of Aldshire, andthe busiest hour of the day. The clock of St. Juliana's was on thepoint of striking three, and the streets below it were thronged. Thegentry, indeed, were beginning to take themselves homeward; a carriageand four, with postillions in yellow jackets, awaited its lettersbefore the Post Office, and near at hand a red-wheeled tandem-cart,the horses tossing their small, keen heads, hung on the movements ofits master, who was gossipping on the steps of Ovington's Bank, onBride Hill. But only the vans bound to the more distant valleys hadyet started on their lagging journey; the farmers' gigs, thehucksters' carts, the pack-asses still lingered, filling the streetswith a chattering, moving multitude. White-coated yeomen and theirwives jostled their betters--but with humble apologies--in thelow-browed shops, or hardily pushed smocked-frocks from the narrowpavements, or clung together in obstinate groups in the roadway. Loudwas the babel about the yards of the inns, loudest where the taproomspoured forth those who, having dined well, had also drunk deep, afterthe fashion of our great-grandsires.

  Through all this medley and hubbub a young man threaded his way. Hewore a blue coat with gilt buttons, a waistcoat to match, and drabtrousers, and as he hurried along, his hat tilted back, he greetedgentle and simple with the same laughing nod. He had the carriage ofone who had a fixed position in the world and knew his worth; and soattractive was his smile, so gallant his confidence, that liking ranbefore him, and two out of three of the faces that he encounteredmirrored his good humor. As he passed along the High Street, andskirted the Market Place, where the quaint stone figure of an ancientPrince, great in his day, looked down on the turmoil from the front ofthe Market House, he glanced up at the clock, noted the imminence ofthe hour, and quickened his pace.

  A man touched him on the sleeve. "Mr. Bourdillon, sir," he said,trying to stop him, "by your leave! I want to----"

  "Not now. Not now, Broadway," the young man answered quickly. "I'mmeeting the mail." And before the other had fairly taken in his wordshe was a dozen paces away, now slipping deftly between two lurchingfarmers, now coasting about the more obstinate groups.

  A moment later St. Juliana's clock, hard put to it to raise its wheezyvoice above the noise, struck the hour. The young man slackened hispace. He was in time, but only barely in time, for as he paused, thedistant notes of the guard's bugle sprang like fairy music above theturbid current of sound and gave notice that the coach was at hand.Hurriedly gigs and carts drew aside, the crowd sought the pavements,the more sober drew the heedless out of danger, half a dozen voicescried "Look out! Have a care!" and with a last shrill Tantivy!Tantivy! Tantivy! the four sweating bays, the leaders cantering, thewheelers trotting, the bars all taut, emerged from the crest of thesteep Cop, and the Holyhead Mail, within a minute of its time, drew upbefore the door of the Lion, the Royal Arms shining bravely from itsred panels.

  Shop-keepers ran to their doors, the crowd closed up about it, theyokels gaped--for who in those days felt no interest in its advent! Bythat coach had come, eleven years before, the news of the abdicationof the Corsican and the close of the Great War. Laurelled and flagged,it had thrilled the town a year afterwards with the tidings ofWaterloo. Later it had signalled the death of the old blind king, andlater still, the acquittal--as all the world regarded it--of QueenCaroline. Ah, how the crowd had cheered then! And how lustily oldSquire Griffin of Garth, the great-uncle of this young man, now cometo meet the mail, had longed to lay his cane about their disloyalshoulders!

  The coachman, who had driven the eleven-mile stage from Haygate infifty-eight minutes, unbuckled and flung down the reins. The guardthrust his bugle into its case, tossed a bundle of journals to thewaiting boys, and stepped nimbly to the ground. The passengersfollowed more slowly, stamping their chilled feet, and stretchingtheir cramped limbs. Some, who were strangers, looked about them witha travelled air, or hastened to the blazing fires that shone from theLion windows, while two or three who were at their journey's endbustled about, rescuing shawls and portmanteaux, or dived into innerpockets for the coachman's fee.

  The last to appear, a man, rather below the middle height, in ahandsome caped travelling-coat, was in no hurry. He stepped out at hisease and found the young man who has been described at his side. "Thatyou, Arthur?" he said, his face lighting up. "All well?"

  "All well, sir. Let me take that!"

  "Isn't Rodd here? Ah!" to a second young man, plainer, darker, andmore soberly garbed, who had silently appeared at his forerunner'selbow. "Take this, Rodd, will you?" handing him a small leather case."Don't let it go, until it is on my table. All well?"

  "All well, sir, thank you."

  "Then go on at once, will you? I will follow with Mr. Bourdillon. Giveme your arm, Arthur." He looked about him as he spoke. One or two hatswere lifted, he acknowledged the courtesy with a smile. "Betty well?"

  "You'll find her at the window looking out. All gone swimmingly, Ihope, sir?"

  "Swimmingly?" The traveller paused on the word, perhaps questioningits propriety; and he did not continue until they had disengagedthemselves from the group round the coach. He and the young man came,though there was nothing to show this, from different grades ofsociety, and the one was thirty years older than the other and someinches shorter. Yet there was a likeness. The lower part of the facein each was strong, and a certain brightness in the eyes, that wasalertness in the younger man and keenness in the elder, told of asanguine temperament; and they were both good-looking. "Swimmingly?"the traveller repeated when they had freed themselves from theirimmediate neighbors. "Well, if you choose to put it that way, yes.But, it's wonderful, wonderful," in a lower tone, as he paused aninstant to acknowledge an acquaintance, "the state of things up there,my boy."

  "Still rising?"

  "Rising as if things would never fall. And upon my word I don't knowwhy, with the marvellous progress everything is making--but I'll tellyou all that later. It's a full market. Is Acherley at the bank?"

  "Yes, and Sir Charles. They came a little before time."

  "Clement is with them, I suppose?"

  "Well, no, sir."

  "Don't say he's away to-day!" in a tone of vexation.

  "I'
m afraid he is," Arthur admitted. "But they are all right. Ioffered Sir Charles the paper, but they preferred to wait outside."

  "D----n!" muttered the other, nodding right and left. "Too bad of theboy! Too bad! No," to the person who had lain in wait for Bourdillonand now put himself in their way, "I can't stop now, Mr. Broadway."

  "But, Mr. Ovington! Just a----"

  "Not now!" Ovington answered curtly. "Call to-morrow." And when theyhad left the man behind, "What does he want?"

  "What they all want," Arthur answered, smiling. "A good thing, sir."

  "But he isn't a customer."

  "No, but he will be to-morrow," the young man rejoined. "They are allagog. They've got it that you can make a man's fortune by a word, andof course they want their fortunes made."

  "Ah!" the other ejaculated drily. "But seriously, look about you,Arthur. Did you ever see a greater change in men's faces--from whatthey were this time two years? Even the farmers!"

  "Well, they are doing well."

  "Better, at any rate. Better, even they. Yes, Mr. Wolley," to a stoutman, much wrapped up, who put himself in the way, "follow us, please.Sir Charles is waiting. Better," Ovington continued to his companion,as the man fell behind, "and prices rising, and demand--demandspreading in everything."

  "Including Stocks?"

  "Including Stocks. I've some news for Sir Charles, that, if he has anydoubts about joining us, will fix him. Well, here we are, and I'm gladto be at home. We'll go in by the house door, Arthur, or Betty will bedisappointed."

  The bank stood on Bride Hill, looking along the High Street. Theposition was excellent and the house good. Still, it was no more thana house, for in 1825 banks were not the institutions that they havesince become; they had still for rivals the old stocking and thecracked teapot, and among banks, Ovington's at Aldersbury was neitherof long standing nor of more than local repute.

  Mr. Ovington led the way into the house, and had barely removed hishat when a girl flew down the wide oak staircase and flung herselfupon him. "Oh, father!" she cried. "Here at last! Aren't you cold?Aren't you starving?"

  "Pretty well for that," he replied, stroking her hair in a way thatproved that, whatever he was to others, he had a soft spot for hisdaughter. "Pretty well for that, Betty."

  "Well, there's a good fire! Come and warm yourself!"

  "That's what I can't do, my dear," he said, taking off his great coat."Business first."

  "But I thought you had done all that in London?" pouting.

  "Not all, but some. I shall be an hour, perhaps more."

  She shot a mutinous glance at Arthur. "Why can't he do it? And Mr.Rodd?"

  "You think we are old enough, Betty?"

  "Apprentices should be seen, and not heard!" she snapped.

  Arthur's position at the bank had been hardly understood at first, andin some fit of mischief, Betty, determined not to bow down to hispretensions, had christened him the "Apprentice."

  "I thought that that proverb applied to children," he retorted.

  The girl was a beauty, dark and vivid, but small, and young enough tofeel the gibe. Before she could retaliate, however, her fatherintervened. "Where's Clement?" he asked. "I know that he is not here."

  "Tell-tale!" she flung at Arthur. "If you must know, father," mildly,"I think that he's----"

  "Mooning somewhere, I suppose, instead of being in the bank, as heshould be. And market day of all days! There, come, Bourdillon, Imustn't keep Sir Charles and Acherley waiting." He led the way to therear of the hall, where a door on the left led into the bank parlor.Betty made a face after them.

  In the parlor which lay behind the public office were two men. One,seated in an arm-chair by the fire, was reading the _Morning Post_.The other stood at the window, his very shoulders expressing hisimpatience. But it was to the former, a tall, middle-aged man, stiffand pompous, with thin sandy hair but kindly eyes, that Ovington madethe first advance. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Sir Charles,"he said. "Very sorry. But I assure you I have not wasted a minute. Mr.Acherley," to the other, "pardon me, will you? Just a word with SirCharles before we begin."

  And leaving Bourdillon to make himself agreeable to the impatientAcherley, Ovington drew Sir Charles Woosenham aside. "I have gone alittle beyond my instructions," he said in a low tone, "and sold yourMonte Reales."

  The Baronet's face fell. "Sold!" he ejaculated. "Parted with them? ButI never--my dear sir, I never----"

  "Authorized a sale?" the banker agreed suavely. "No, perfectly right,Sir Charles. But I was on the spot and I felt myself responsible.There was a favorable turn and--" forestalling the other as he wouldhave interrupted--"my rule is little and sure--little and sure, andsell on a fair rise. I don't think you will be dissatisfied with thetransaction."

  But Sir Charles's displeasure showed itself in his face. He was a manof family and influence, honorable and straightforward, but hisabilities were hardly on a par with his position, and though he had attimes an inkling of the fact it only made him the more jealous ofinterference. "But I never contemplated," he said, the blood rising tohis face, "never for a moment, that you would part with the stockswithout reference to me, Mr. Ovington."

  "Precisely, precisely--without your authority, Sir Charles--except ata really good profit. I think that four or five hundred was mentioned?Just so. Well, if you will look at this draft, which of courseincludes the price of the stocks--they cost, if I remember, fourteenhundred or thereabouts--you will, I hope--I really hope--approve ofwhat I did."

  Sir Charles adjusted his glasses, and frowned at the paper. He wasprepared to be displeased and to show it. "Two thousand six hundred,"he muttered, "two thousand six hundred and twenty-seven!" his jawdropping in his surprise. "Two thousand six--really! Ah, well, Icertainly think--" with a quick change to cordiality that would haveamused an onlooker--"that you acted for the best. I am obliged to you,much obliged, Mr. Ovington. A handsome profit."

  "I felt sure that you would approve," the banker assented gravely."Shall Bourdillon put the draft--Arthur, be good enough to place thisdraft to Sir Charles Woosenham's account. And tell Mr. Wolley and Mr.Grounds--I think they are waiting--to come in. I ask your pardon, Mr.Acherley," approaching him in turn.

  "No plum for me, I suppose?" growled that gentleman, whom the gist ofthe interview with Sir Charles had not escaped. He was a tall,hatchet-faced, dissipated-looking man, of an old family, Acherley ofAcherley. He had been a dandy with Brummell, had shaken his elbow atWatier's when Crockford managed it, had dined at the Pavilion; now hevegetated in the country on a mortgaged estate, and on Sundaysattended cock-fights behind the village public-house.

  "Well, not to-day," Ovington answered pleasantly. "But when we haveshaken the tree a little----"

  "One may fall, you think?"

  "I hope so. You will be unlucky if one does not."

  The two men who had been summoned came in, each after his fashion.Wolley entered first, endeavoring to mask under a swaggering mannerhis consciousness that he stood in the presence of his betters. Aclothier from the Valleys and one of Ovington's earliest customers, hehad raised himself, as the banker had, and from the same stratum; butby enlarging instead of selling his mill. During the war he had mademuch money and had come to attribute his success a little more to hisabilities and a little less to circumstances than was the fact. Oflate there were whispers that in the financial storm of '16, which hadfollowed the close of the war, he had come near the rocks; but if sohe had put a bold face on the crisis, and by steadily putting himselfforward he had impressed most men with a belief in his wealth."Afternoon, Sir Charles," he grunted with as much ease as he couldcompass. "Afternoon," to Acherley. He took a seat at the table andslapped down his hat. He was here on business and he meant to showthat he knew what business was.

  Grounds, who followed, was a man of a different type. He was amaltster and had been a dairyman; a leading tradesman in the town,cautious, penurious, timid, putting pound to pound without saying muchabout it, and owning that respect for h
is superiors which became onein his position. Until lately he had hoarded his savings, or put theminto the five per cents.; he had distrusted even the oldest bank. Butprogress was in the air, new enterprises, new discoveries were thetalk of the town, the interest on the five per cents. had been reducedto four, and in a rare moment of rashness, he had taken a hint droppedby Ovington, had ventured, and won. He still trembled at his temerity,he still vowed in wakeful moments that he would return to the old saferoad, but in the meantime easy gains tempted him and he was now fairlyembarked on modern courses. He was a byword in Aldersbury for cautionand shrewdness, and his adhesion to any scheme would, as Ovington wellknew, commend it to the town.

  He hung back, but, "Come, Mr. Grounds, take a seat," said the banker."You know Sir Charles and Mr. Acherley? Sir Charles, will you sit onmy right, and Mr. Acherley here, if you please? Bourdillon, will youtake a note? We are met, as you know, gentlemen, to consider theformation of a Joint Stock Company, to be called"--he consulted apaper--"the Valleys Steam Railroad Company, for the purpose ofconnecting the woollen business of the Valleys with the town, and ofproviding the public with a superior mode of transport. The Bill forthe Manchester and Liverpool Railroad is on the point of passing, andthat great enterprise is as good as carried through. The Bill for theLondon and Birmingham Railroad is before the House; a Bill for a linefrom Birmingham to Aldersbury is preparing. Those projects are,gentlemen, in stronger hands than ours, and it might seem to some tobe too early to anticipate their success and to provide thecontinuation we propose. But nothing is more certain than that thespoils are to those who are first in the field. The Stockton andDarlington Railway is proving what can be done by steam in thetransport of the heaviest goods. There a single engine draws a load offifty tons at the rate of six miles an hour, and has been known toconvey a load of passengers at fifteen miles. Higher speeds arethought to be possible----"

  "I'll never believe it!" Wolley growled, anxious to assert himself.

  "But not desirable," Ovington continued blandly. "At any rate, if wewait too long----"

  "There's no talk of waiting!" Acherley exclaimed. Neither he nor SirCharles was in the habit of meeting on an equal footing the men withwhom they were sitting to-day; he found the position galling, and whatwas to be done he was anxious should be done quickly. He had heard thebanker's exordium before.

  "No, we are here to act," Ovington assented, with an eye onGrounds, for whose benefit he had been talking. "But on sober andwell-considered lines. We are all agreed, I think, that such arailroad will be a benefit to the trade and district?"

  Now, to this proposition not one of those present would have assenteda year before. "Steam railroads?" they would have cried, "fantasticand impossible!" But the years 1823 and 1824 had been years not onlyof great prosperity but of abnormal progress. The seven lean years,the years of depression and repression, which had followed Waterloohad come to an end. The losses of war had been made good, andsimultaneously a more liberal spirit had been infused into theGovernment. Men had breathed freely, had looked about them, had begunto hope and to venture, to talk of a new world. Demand had overtakenand outrun supply, large profits had been made, money had becomecheap, and, fostered by credit, the growth of enterprise throughoutthe country had been marvellous. It was as if, after the frosts ofwinter, the south wind had blown and sleeping life had everywhereawakened. Men doubled their operations and still had money to spare.They put the money in the funds--the funds rose until they paid nomore than three per cent. Dissatisfied, men sought other channels fortheir savings, nor sought in vain. Joint Stock Companies arose onevery side. Projects, good and bad, sprang up like mushrooms in anight. Old lodes and new harbors, old canals and new fisheries, weretaken in hand, and for all these there seemed to be capital. Sharesrose to a premium before the companies were floated, and soon thebounds of our shores were found to be too narrow for Britishenterprise. At that moment the separation of the South Americancountries from Spain fell out, and these were at once seen to offernew outlets. The romantic were dazzled with legends of mines of goldand pockets of diamonds, while the gravest saw gain in pampas wavingwith wheat and prairies grazed by countless herds. It was felt, evenby the most cautious, that a new era had set in. Trade, soaring on acontinual rise in prices, was to know no bounds. If the golden age ofcommerce had not begun, something very like it had come to bless theBritish merchant.

  Under such circumstances the Valleys Railroad seemed a practical thingeven to Grounds, and Ovington's question was answered by a generalassent.

  "Very good, gentlemen," he resumed. "Then I may take that as agreed."He proceeded to enter upon the details of the scheme. The length ofthe line would be fourteen miles. The capital was to be L45,000,divided into 4500 shares of L10 each, L1 a share to be paid at once,the sum so raised to be used for the preliminary expenses; L1 10s. pershare to be paid three months later, and the rest to be called up asrequired. The directors' qualification would be fifty shares. Thenumber of directors would be seven--the five gentlemen now present andtwo to be named, as to whom he would have a word to say by-and-by. Mr.Bourdillon, of whose abilities he thought highly--here several at thetable looked kindly at the young man--and who for other reasons waseminently fitted for the position, would be secretary.

  "But will the forty-five thousand be enough, sir?" Grounds venturedtimidly. He alone was not directly interested in the venture. Wolleywas the tenant of a large mill. Sir Charles was the owner of two millsand the hamlets about them, Acherley of a third. Ovington had variousinterests.

  "To complete the line, Mr. Grounds? We believe so. To provide theengine and coaches another fifteen thousand will be needed, but thismay be more cheaply raised by a mortgage."

  Sir Charles shied at the word. "I don't like a mortgage, Mr.Ovington," he said.

  "No, d----n a mortgage!" Acherley chimed in. He had had muchexperience of them.

  "The point is this," the banker explained. "The road once completed,we shall be able to raise the fifteen thousand at five per cent. If weissue shares they must partake, equally with ourselves, in theprofits, which may be fifteen, twenty, perhaps twenty-five per cent."

  A twinkle of greed passed from eye to eye. Fifteen, twenty,twenty-five per cent.! Ho, ho!

  "The next question," Ovington continued, "is important. We cannot usethe highway, the gradients and angles render that impossible. We mustacquire a right of way; but, fortunately, the estates we run over arefew, no more than thirteen in all, and for a full third of thedistance they are represented at this table." He bowed gracefully tothe two landowners. "Sir Charles will, of course, be President of theRoad and Chairman of the Directors. We are fortunate in having at ourhead a country gentleman who has"--he bowed again--"the enlightenmentto see that the landed interest is best served by making commercecontributory to its well-being."

  "But what about the game?" Sir Charles asked anxiously. "You don'tthink----"

  "On that point the greatest care will be taken. We shall see that nocovert is closely approached."

  "And the--you won't bring the line within sight of----"

  "Of the Park? God forbid! The amenities of every estate must becarefully guarded. And, of course, a fair price for the right of waywill be agreed. Seven of the smaller landowners I have sounded, and weshall have no trouble with them. The largest estate outstanding----"

  "Is my landlord's, I'll bet!" Wolley exclaimed.

  "Yes--is Garth. Mr. Griffin's."

  Wolley laughed rudely. "Garth? Ay, you'll have your work cut outthere!"

  "Oh. I don't know!"

  "I do. And you'll find I'm right."

  "Well, I hope----"

  "You may hope what you like!" Sir Charles shuddered at the man'sbrusqueness. "The Squire's a hard nut to crack, and so you'll find,banker. If you can get him to do a thing he don't wish to do, you'llbe the first that ever has. He hates the name of trade as he hates thedevil!"

  The baronet sat up. "Trade?" he exclaimed. "Oh! but I am not aware,sir, that this is---- Surely a railroa
d is on another footing?" Alarmwas written on his face.

  "Quite!" Ovington struck in. "Entirely different! Another thingaltogether, Sir Charles. There can be only one opinion on that."

  "Of course, if I thought I was entering on anything like----"

  "A railroad is on an entirely different footing," the banker repeated,with an angry glance at Wolley, who, unrepentant, continued to starebefore him, a sneer on his face. "On an entirely different footing.Even Mr. Griffin, prejudiced as I venture with all respect to think heis--even he would agree to that. But I have considered the difficulty,gentlemen, and I have no doubt we can surmount it. I propose to seehim on Monday, accompanied by Mr. Bourdillon, his great-nephew, andbetween us I have no doubt that we shall be able to persuade him."

  Acherley looked over his shoulder at the secretary, who sat at a smalltable at Ovington's elbow. "Like the job, Arthur?" he asked.

  "I think Sir Charles's example will go a long way with him,"Bourdillon answered. He was a tactful young man.

  The banker put the interruption aside. "I shall see Mr. Griffin onMonday, and with your consent, gentlemen, I propose to offer him thesixth seat at the Board."

  "Quite right, quite right," Sir Charles murmured, much relieved.

  "He'll not take it!" Wolley persisted.

  "My dear sir!"

  "You will see I am right."

  "Well, there are more ways than one. At any rate I will see him andreport to the next meeting, when, with the chairman's approbation, weshall draw up the prospectus. In that connection"--he consulted hispaper--"I have already received overtures from customers of thebank for four hundred shares." There was a murmur of applause andGrounds's face betrayed relief. "Then Sir Charles has put himself downfor three hundred." He bowed deferentially to Woosenham. "Mr. Acherleyfor one hundred and fifty, Mr. Wolley has taken up one hundred andtwenty-five, and Mr. Grounds--I have not heard from Mr. Grounds, andthere is no hurry. No hurry at all!"

  But Grounds, feeling that all eyes were on him, and feeling alsouncomfortable in his company, took the fence up to which he had beenbrought. He murmured that he would take one hundred and twenty-five.

  "Excellent!" said Ovington. "And I, on behalf of the bank, propose totake four hundred." Again there was a murmur of applause. "So thatbefore we go to the public we have already one-third of the sharestaken up. That being so, I feel no doubt that we shall start at apremium before we cut the first sod."

  There followed a movement of feet, an outburst of hilarity. For thiswas what they all wished to hear; this was the point. Chairs werepushed back, and Sir Charles, who was as fearful for his prestige asGrounds for his money, recovered his cheerfulness. Even Acherleybecame good-humored. "Well, here's to the Valleys Railroad!" he cried."Damme, we ought to have something to drink it in!"

  The banker ignored this, and Sir Charles spoke. "But as to the seventhseat at the Board? We have not arranged that, I think?" He liked toshow that nothing escaped him, and that if he was above business hecould still, when he condescended, be a business man.

  "No," Ovington agreed. "But I suggest that, with your permission, wehold that over. There may be a big subscriber taking three or fourhundred shares?"

  "Quite so, quite so."

  "Somebody may come forward, and the larger the applications the higherthe premium, gentlemen."

  Again eyes glistened, and there was a new movement. Woosenham took hisleave, bowing to Wolley and Grounds, and shaking hands with theothers. Acherley went with him and Ovington accompanied them,bare-headed, to Sir Charles's carriage, which was waiting before thebank. As he returned Wolley waylaid him and drew him into a corner. Aconference took place, the banker turning the money in his fob as helistened, his face grave. Presently the clothier entered on a secondexplanation. In the end Ovington nodded. He called Rodd from thecounter and gave an order. He left his customer in the bank.

  When he re-entered the parlor Grounds had disappeared, and Arthur, whowas bending over his, papers, looked up. "Wolley wanted his notesrenewed, I suppose?" he said. The bank had few secrets for this shrewdyoung man, who had learnt as much of business in eighteen months asRodd the cashier had learned in ten years, or as Clement Ovingtonwould learn in twenty.

  The banker nodded. "And three hundred more on his standing loan."

  Arthur whistled. "I wonder you go on carrying him, sir."

  "If I cut him loose now----"

  "There would be a loss, of course."

  "Yes, but that is not all, lad. Where would the Railroad scheme be?Gone. And that's not all, either. His fall would deal a blow tocredit. The money that we are drawing out of the old stockings and thecracked tea-pots would go back to them. Half the clothiers in theValley would shiver, and neither I nor you would be able to say wherethe trouble would stop, or who would be in the _Gazette_ next week.No, we must carry him for the present, and pay for his railway sharestoo. But we shall hold them, and the profits will eventually come tous. And if the railway is made, it will raise the value of mills andincrease our security; so that whether he goes on or we have to takethe mills over--which Heaven forbid!--the ground will be firmer. Itwent well?"

  "Splendidly! The way you managed them!" The lad laughed.

  "What is it?"

  "Grounds asked me if I did not think that you were like the picturesof old Boney. I said I did. The Napoleon of Finance, I told him. Only,I added, you knew a deal better where to stop."

  Ovington shook his head at the flatterer, but was pleased with theflattery. More than once, people had stopped him in the street andtold him that he was like Napoleon. It was not only that he was stoutand of middle height, with his head sunk between his shoulders; but hehad the classic profile, the waxen complexion, the dominating brow andkeen bright eyes, nay, something of the air of power of the greatExile who had died three years before. And he had something, too, ofhis ambition. Sprung from nothing, a self-made man, he seemed in hisneighbors' eyes to have already reached a wonderful eminence. But inhis own eyes he was still low on the hill of fortune. He was still acountry banker, and new at that. But if the wave of prosperity whichwas sweeping over the country and which had already wrought so manychanges, if this could be taken at the flood, nothing, he believed,was beyond him. He dreamed of a union with Dean's, the oldconservative steady-going bank of the town; of branches here andbranches there; finally of an amalgamation with a London bank, ofThreadneedle Street, and a directorship--but Arthur was speaking.

  "You managed Grounds splendidly," he said. "I'll wager he's sweatingover what he's done! But do you think--" he looked keenly at the bankeras he put the question, for he was eager to know what was in hismind--"the thing will succeed, sir?"

  "The railroad?"

  "Yes."

  "I think that the shares will go to a premium. And I see no reason whythe railroad should not do. If I did not think so, I should not befostering it. It may take time and, of course, more money than wethink. But if nothing occurs to dash the public--no, I don't see whyit should not succeed. And if it does it will give such an impetus tothe trade of the Valleys, three-fourths of which passes through ourhands, as will repay us many times over."

  "I am glad you think so. I was not sure."

  "Because I led Grounds a little? Oh, that was fair enough. It does notfollow from that, that honesty is not the banker's only policy. Makeno mistake about that. But I am going into the house now. Just bringme the note-issue book, will you? I must see how we stand. I shall bein the dining-room."

  But when Arthur went into the house a few minutes later he met Betty,who was crossing the hall. "Your father wanted this book," he said."Will you take it to him?"

  But Betty put her hands behind her back. "Why? Where are you going?"

  "You have forgotten that it is Saturday. I am going home."

  "Horrid Saturday! I thought that to-night, with father just back----"

  "I wouldn't go? If I don't my mother will think that the skies havefallen. Besides, I am riding Clement's mare, and if I don't go, how ishe to come ba
ck?"

  "As you go at other times. On his feet."

  "Ah, well, very soon I shall have a horse of my own. You'll see,Betty. We are all going to make our fortunes now."

  "Fortunes?"--with disdain. "Whose?"

  "Your father's for one."

  "Silly! He's made his."

  "Then yours--and mine, Betty. Yours and mine--and Clement's."

  "I don't think he'll thank you."

  "Then Rodd's. But, no, we'll not make Rodd's. We'll not make Rodd's,Betty."

  "And why not Mr. Rodd's?"

  "Never mind. We'll not make it," mischievously. "I wonder why you'vegot such a color, Betty?" And as she snatched the book from him andthreatened him with it, "Good-bye till Monday. I'm late now, and itwill be dark before I am out of the town."

  With a gay nod he vanished through the door that led into the bank.She looked after him, the book in her hand. Her lip curled. "Roddindeed!" she murmured. "Rodd? As if I should ever--oh, isn't heprovoking!"