The banker reflected. “That’s the worst account we have. The worst, isn’t it?” “Mr. Acherley’s, sir.” “Well, yes. There might be a sounder account than that. But what is it?” He looked directly at the other. “I want to know what has opened your mouth? Have you heard anything? What makes you think that things are going down?” “Mr. Griffin——” “No.” The banker shook his head. “That won’t do, Rodd. You had this in your mind before he came in. You are pat with Wolley and Mr. Acherley; bad accounts both, as all banks have bad accounts here and there. But it’s true—we’ve been giving our customers rope, and they have bought things that may fall. Still, they’ve made money, a good deal of money, and we’ve kept a fair margin and obliged them at the same time. All legitimate business. There must be something in your mind besides this, I’m sure. What is it, lad?” The cashier turned a dull red, but before he could answer the door behind him opened. Arthur came in. He looked at the banker, and from him to Rodd, and his suspicions were aroused. “It’s four o’clock, sir,” he said, and looked again at Rodd as if to ask what he was doing there. But Rodd held his ground, and the banker explained. “Rodd is a little alarmed for us,” he said, and it was difficult to be sure whether he spoke in jest or in earnest. “He thinks we’re going too fast. Putting our hand out too far. He mentions Wolley’s account, and Acherley’s. “I was speaking generally,” Rodd muttered. He looked sullen. Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “I stand corrected,” he said. “I didn’t know that Rodd ever went beyond his ledgers.” “Oh, he’s quite right to speak his mind. We are all in the same boat—though we do not all steer.” “Well, I’m glad of that, sir.” “Still,” mildly, “it is a good thing to have an opinion.” “If it be worth anything.” “If opinions are going——” Betty had opened the door behind the banker’s chair, and was standing on the threshold—“wouldn’t you like to have mine, father?” “To be sure,” Arthur said. “Why not, indeed? Let us have it. Why not have everybody’s? And send for the cook, sir, and the two clerks—to advise us?” Betty dropped a curtsy. “Thank you, I am flattered.” “Betty, you’ve no business here,” her father said. “You mustn’t stop unless you can keep your opinions to yourself.” “But what has happened?” she asked, looking around in wonder. “Mr. Griffin has withdrawn his account.” “And Rodd,” Arthur added, with more heat than the occasion seemed to demand, “thinks that we had better put up the shutters!” “No, no,” the banker said. “We must do him justice. He thinks that we are going a little too far, that’s all. And that the loss of Mr. Griffin’s account is a danger signal. That’s what you mean, man, isn’t it?” Rodd nodded, his face stubborn. He stood alone, divided from the other three by the table, for Arthur had passed round it and placed himself at Ovington’s elbow.