In business, the millionaire and the curate alike must take his chance, only the curate is never willing to do so; he never bears his pain in such dignified silence as was the case with Compton Raidsford, who, week after week, found that “pressure for money” of which he had spoken to Arthur Dudley, increase so much, that eventually he began to tremble for Moorlands—to believe that the business he had worked so hard to establish was tottering, and that, before long, he should have to place his books in the hands of Messrs. Byrne, Browne, Byrne, and Company, accountants, Old Jewry. He could not understand it. Never in all his experience before had money been so difficult to get in—so necessary to pay. Houses that formerly would have trusted him to any amount now absolutely refused to draw upon him at four months. Cash with order was requested in some cases; and although, at first, Mr. Raidsford had treated such refusals and demands as mere signs of the times, he came before very long to the conclusion that somehow his credit had got damaged—that there was more than accident in the pecuniary pressure which ultimately threatened to crush him to the earth. In his distress he had no other confidant than Lord Kemms—to no business man dare he have confided his difficulties. “I am perfectly solvent,” he repeated over and over again. “My estate ought to pay 60_s._ in the pound any day; and yet now, if you believe me, my Lord, I find a difficulty in getting even a bill discounted. If I could only trace the origin of this universal distrust, I really should not despair; but as it is, I feel I am fighting in the dark. That there is something being urged against me I am satisfied, but what that something may be I cannot conjecture. I have not speculated; I have not taken any unprofitable contracts. I have sedulously steered clear of railways for the last two years. Even that branch which is proposed from South Kemms to Palinsbridge, I have refused to touch. I wonder if I can have been too cautious—if my prudence have been misconstrued!” Lord Kemms did not know, but professed himself willing to lend Mr. Raidsford whatever amount of money he might at the moment have at his bankers, which offer the contractor declined. “I do not think, my Lord,” he said, “you know exactly into what sums our transactions run. No amount of money almost could compensate me for the loss of credit. If things go on for another month as they have done for the last three, I shall have to call a meeting. There is no use blinding oneself in a case of this kind.” No use, indeed, when one-half the City was already talking of Mr. Raidsford’s suspension as imminent—when he was spoken of on ’Change as shaky, and words of wisdom were uttered in dingy back offices concerning the fall of the great contractor.