Acherley did not take the trouble to hide his contempt. “Nothing in it?” he replied, and he tossed off a second glass of the famous Woosenham cherry-brandy which the butler, unbidden, had placed beside him. “Nothing in it, man? You’ll find there’s the devil in it unless you act! Enough in it to ease us of ten thousand pounds! If the bank fails, and I’ll go bail it will, not a penny of that money will you see again! And I tell you fair, the shareholders will look to you, Woosenham, to make it good. I’m not responsible. I’ve no authority to sign, and the others are just tools of that man Ovington, and afraid to call their souls their own! You’re Chairman—you’re Chairman, and, by G—d, they’ll look to you if the money is left in the bank and lost!” Sir Charles quailed. This was worse and worse! Worse and worse! He dropped the air of carelessness which he had affected to assume, and no more flustered man than he looked out on the world that day over a white lawn stock or wore a dark blue coat with gilt buttons, and drab kerseymeres with Hessians. But, again, true to his instincts, he grasped at a matter of form, hoping desperately that it might save him from the precipice towards which his friend was so vigorously pushing him. “But—my good man,” he argued, “I can’t draw out the money—the whole of the capital of the concern, so far as it is subscribed—on my own responsibility! Of course I can’t!” wiping the perspiration from his brow. “Of course I can’t!” peevishly. “I must have the authority of the Board first. We must call a meeting of the Board. That’s the proper procedure.” Acherley rose to his feet, openly contemptuous. “Oh, hang your meeting!” he said. “And give a seven days’ notice, eh? If you are going to stand on those P’s and Q’s I’ve said my say. The money’s lost already! However, that’s not my business, and I’ve warned you. I’ve warned you. You’ll not forget that, Woosenham? You’ll exonerate me, at any rate.” “But I can’t—God bless my soul, Acherley,” the poor man remonstrated, “I can’t act like that in a moment!” And Sir Charles stared aghast at his too violent associate, who had brought into the calm of his life so rude a blast of the outer air. “I can’t override all the formalities! I can’t, indeed, even if it is as serious as you say it is—and I can hardly believe that—with such a man as Ovington at the helm!” “You’ll soon see how serious it is!” the other retorted. And satisfied that he had laid the train, he shrugged his shoulders, tossed off a third glass of the famous cherry-brandy, and took himself off without much ceremony.