But he had convinced himself that it was his duty to make the attempt, however hopeless it might seem, and however painful to himself—and few things in his life had been more painful. To play the suppliant, he who had raised his head so high, and by virtue of an undoubted touch of genius had carried it so loftily, this was bad enough. But to play the suppliant to the very persons on whom he had trespassed, and whom he had defied, to open his distresses to those to whom he had pretended to teach a newer and sounder practice, to acknowledge in act, if not in word, that they had been right and he wrong, this indeed was enough to wring the proud man’s heart, and bring the perspiration to his brow. Yet he performed the task with the dignity, of which, as he had risen in the world, he had learned the trick, and which even at this moment did not desert him. “I am going to be frank with you, Mr. Dean,” he said when the door had closed on the servant and the two stood eye to eye. “There is going, I fear, to be a run on me to-day, and unfortunately I have been disappointed in a sum of twelve thousand pounds, which I expected to receive. I do not need the whole, two-thirds of the sum will meet all the demands which are likely to be made upon me, and to cover that sum I can lodge undeniable security, bills with good names—I have a list here and you can examine it. I suggest, Mr. Dean, that in your own interests as well as in mine you help me. For if I am compelled to close—and I cannot deny that I may have to close, though I trust for a short time only—it is certain that a very serious run will be made upon you.” Mr. Dean’s eyes remained cold and unresponsive. “We are prepared to meet it,” he answered frostily. “We are not afraid.” He was a tall man, thin and dry, without a spark of imagination, or enterprise. A man whose view was limited to his ledger, and who, if he had not inherited a business, would never have created one. “You are aware that Poles’ and Williams’s have failed?” “Yes. I believe that our information is up to date.” “And that Garrard’s at Hereford closed yesterday?” “I am sorry to hear it.” “The times are very serious, Mr. Dean. Very serious.” “We have foreseen that,” the other replied. They were both standing. “The truth is, we are paying for a period of reckless trading, encouraged in my humble opinion, Mr. Ovington”—he could not refrain from the stab—“by those who should have restrained it.” Ovington let that pass. He had too much at stake to retort. “Possibly,” he said. “Possibly. But we have now to deal with the present—as it exists. It is on public rather than on private grounds that I appeal to you, Mr. Dean. A disaster threatens the community. I appeal to you to help me to avert it. As I have said, securities shall be placed in your hands, more than sufficient to cover the risk. Approved securities to your satisfaction.”