“Now if I bust Pickering,--and I give you my promise that I will,--just think where you’ll be. You’ve got the lard, forty thousand of it, and you’ll be lucky if you don’t have to take forty thousand more before the end, and you won’t be able to get rid of it. The market’ll be swamped, buried under it. Of course, in the end, the bank’ll get its money back, but for a while you’ll be in the hole. In fact, when the next stockholders’ meeting comes round, you’ll be in a hole, and it won’t be pleasant to have to tell those old fossils how you lost it. “You know the make-up of the Board of Directors,” Sponley said slowly, pushing the words home hard. “There’s a majority that in general back up your policy; but I don’t believe many of them would take kindly to this sort of business: I’m opposed to it myself,--for whatever motives you please,--and I count one. You know how disagreeable a strong opposition in your board would be. By letting go right away, you can please everybody; it’ll strengthen you immensely with the old crowd, and I think,--” there was just an instant’s pause, and then the words were shot precisely into the centre of the target,--“I think that Cartwright and Meredith will look at the matter much as I do, and that that kind of conservatism will go a long way toward convincing them that you ought to have full control of your father’s estate. You’ve got old Moffat well in hand yourself; so there you are. You can run the bank as you please by next January, if you only play it right now.” “There’s a practical detail to consider,” said John. “You say I should drop Pickering to-morrow. What excuse have I for calling his loan?” “That’s not difficult. Ask him for some security other than lard. The tumble the stuff took yesterday is excuse enough for that, though it was his own doing. He won’t be able to put up any other collateral to-morrow morning. Then sell his lard. There’ll be market enough for it. The whole thing’ll go like clockwork.” Sponley lighted a cigar and walked to the bookcase. He had said all that was necessary, and he was too wise to say more; so he stood looking at the books, his back to John. Occasionally he would take out a volume which had attracted his eye, and glance through its pages. He was in no hurry. John should have plenty of time to think.