"Yes, of course--provided Wharton Kendrick lives. But Wharton Kendrick is likely to die. The question we have to consider is, What will his note be worth in the Probate Court?" "You see how it is," said Partridge, with the patient air of one instructing a novice. "If you haven’t anything to pledge, why, an assignment is the thing." I faced my associates with the determination to yield nothing. "I act on the assumption that Wharton Kendrick will get well," I replied. "And if he gets well only to find that I have made a general assignment of his business, how much further do you suppose he will trust me with his affairs?" "That’s all right for you," said Partridge. "But how shall we look when we present our account to the syndicate and show that we have loaned one of our members three hundred and fifty thousand without security? How long do you think it would be before we got a chance to handle any more of their money? We’d be waiting till the next day after never, I guess." The knot of circumstances seemed to be pretty firmly tangled, and I saw no way but to cut it by a bold stroke. "I don’t want to act without your consent--" I began. "You have no right to act without our consent," interrupted Partridge, with quick insight into my resolve. "Right or not, I have the power. And you will be relieved of responsibility if I pay the money without your consent." "You wouldn’t do that!" cried Nelson and Partridge in a breath, their faces showing signs of rising temper. "I certainly shall do it before I see Wharton Kendrick’s notes go to protest and a financial panic start in San Francisco." Partridge and Nelson looked at me with concern and anger pictured on their faces. But before either could speak, the door opened and William T. Coleman entered. "You’re just in time, Coleman," said Partridge explosively. "See if you can’t put reason into this young man’s head." "What’s the trouble?" asked Coleman, looking calmly at the flushed and angry countenances before him. Partridge and I attempted to explain our positions at the same time, but Coleman picked out the facts from the confusion, and with a few tactful questions had the situation clearly in his mind. "The solution is very simple," he said. "Wharton Kendrick subscribed five hundred thousand to the syndicate. Mr. Hampden will assign us three hundred and fifty thousand out of that sum, and we shall be perfectly protected." Coleman’s plan was so logical and businesslike a way out of our difficulties that I breathed a sigh of relief, and the anger of my associates evaporated in a laugh at our stupidity in not thinking of it for ourselves. "How much does that leave in the fund?" asked Coleman, when I had taken up the notes, and sent the clerk on his way. "A trifle over twenty-three thousand." "Gentlemen," said Partridge, rising with a theatric gesture, "the syndicate retires from business. Thank Heaven it is striking three." "And what of to-morrow?" I asked.