Ovington gazed thoughtfully at his joined finger-tips. “Is the door closed?” he asked again, and assured that it was, he looked thoughtfully from one to the other of the young men. He seemed to be measuring them, considering how far he could trust them, how far it would be well to take them into his confidence. Then, “We are going to meet a crisis,” he said. “I have now no doubt about that. All over the country the banks have increased their issues, and hold a vast quantity of pawned stock. If the fall in values is continued, the banks must throw the stock on the market, and there will be a general fall. At the same time they will be obliged to restrict credit and refuse discounts, which will force traders to throw goods on the market to meet their obligations. Goods as well as stocks will fall. Alarm will follow, and presently there will be a run on a weak bank and it will close its doors. Then there will be a panic, and a run on other banks—a run proportioned in violence to the amount of credit granted in the last two years. We may have to meet a run on deposits at the same time that we may be called upon to cash every note that we have issued.” “Impossible!” Arthur cried. “We could not do it.” “If you mean that the run is impossible,” the banker answered quietly, “I much fear that events will confute you. If you mean that we could not meet our obligations, well, we must strain every nerve to do so. We must retain all the cash that comes in, and we must issue no more notes, create no more credit. But even this we must do with discretion, and above all not a whisper must pass beyond this room. I will speak to Rodd. Hamar I will see this evening, and do what I can to sweeten the refusal. We must wear confident faces however grave the crisis. We are solvent, amply solvent, if time be given us to realize our resources; but time may not be given us, and we may have to make great sacrifices. You may be inclined to blame me——” he paused, and looked from one to the other—Arthur stood frowning, his eyes on the carpet—“that I did not take the alarm earlier? Well, I ought to have done so, perhaps. But——” “Nobody blames you, sir!” It was Clement who spoke, Clement, in whom the last few minutes had made a marked change. His dulness and listlessness had fallen from him, he stood upright and alert. The imagination which had balked at the routine of banking, faced a crisis with alacrity, and conscious that he had hitherto failed his father, he welcomed with zest the opportunity of proving his loyalty, “Nobody blames you, sir!” he repeated firmly. “We are here to stand by you, and I am confident that we shall win through. If any bank can stand, Ovington’s will stand. And if we don’t win through, if the public insists on cutting its own throat, well”—a little ashamed of his own enthusiasm—“we shall still believe in you, sir, you may be sure of that!”