“A hundred thousand,” he repeated slowly. “David, it might as well be a million. There is no use. I shall telegraph to the bank examiner to-night, and we won’t open the bank doors in the morning.” III Eben Grillage At his father’s definite acknowledgment of defeat David Vallory rose and thrust the penciled sheets into his pocket, crumpling them absently into a wad. “I can’t tell you what to do,” he admitted. “I’m too young and too raw; how raw I never realized until to-day. Just the same, everything in me rises up to yell for an endurance fight. Call it stubbornness or anything you like, but I’d rather be knocked out than squeezed out. Some of the bad paper can be made good if we retain an up-to-date lawyer and put the pressure on as if we meant it. In the savings department we can gain time by insisting upon the sixty days’ notice of withdrawal that the law allows. It’s tough to have to go down without mixing it up a little with the enemy, Dad!” “I know,” was the colorless reply. “But the fight has all been taken out of me, David. You mustn’t think that I’ve been sitting here in my chair and letting things take their course without making a struggle. It hasn’t been anything like that. I’ve turned and twisted every way; have borrowed to my limit and then tried to borrow more. I’ve even gone practically on my knees to Mugridge, of the new Middleboro National. He was as cold as a fish; told me that I ought to push my collections.” “Have you consulted a lawyer?” “Not specifically. Young Oswald has known about how things were going, and he has advised me--as a friend. He would make a legal fight for us if I’d let him.” “Bert Oswald is going to make himself the rarest combination on earth--or at least he was heading that way when he came out of the law school.” “A combination?” “Yes, a man who will be stubbornly honorable and upright in spite of his profession.” David Vallory was prone to magnify his own profession to the detriment of some others, and in the engineering school he had imbibed the technical man’s suspicion of those who draw up contracts and specifications only to leave loopholes of escape. “I don’t believe he would ever take a rascal’s retainer,” he went on, adding: “Why don’t you employ him?” It was Adam Vallory’s turn to show embarrassment. “Bert has been coming to the house rather oftener than his boyhood friendship with you would seem to warrant,” he returned half reluctantly. “This morning you gave me your reason for not wishing to take service under Eben Grillage. Can’t you imagine that I may have a somewhat similar reason for not wishing to involve young Oswald in this sorry business of ours?” This was a new surprise for David. “Lucille?” he queried.