“Is it not serious?” demanded the other. “You don’t mean to tell me, sir, that it is not true!” “It’s not true. It has a groundwork of fact, if you will; but in so far as it insinuates that the bank is involved, and that the safety of the bank depends on Pickering’s succeeding in running a corner in lard, it is an unqualified lie.” “I was otherwise informed by my friend--” “Your friend is one who can speak with authority in the matter?” “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Cartwright. “He told me that for several days he had feared that this would happen. He thinks that the publication of these facts puts the bank in a very serious position.” “Did he--did Mr. Sponley, I mean--suggest that you come to me?” John asked quietly. “I do not see the pertinency of that question, Mr. Bagsbury.” Mr. Cartwright glanced nervously toward the door. He longed for the unwavering support of Mr. Meredith’s valuable opinion. “You are right,” said John. “That has nothing to do with the matter. But I can assure you that Mr. Sponley is mistaken. I know more of the bank’s condition than it is possible for Mr. Sponley to know, and I am not at all alarmed. We may feel the effect of this attack for a few months, or even longer; I fancy that we shall. But I cannot, really, see any ground for your concern in the matter. Your position as one of the trustees of my property is not affected. Of course, if the bank should fail, you might have to bear part of the stigma that a bank failure almost always brings. But the bank is not going to fail. A falling off in our deposits, or a depression of the market value of our stock, or even the passing of a dividend, need occasion you no distress. Those things may trouble our stockholders, though I don’t imagine that any of the larger ones will feel any great alarm. But you and Mr. Meredith--and Mr. Moffat--need have no uneasiness.” “Mr. Moffat may be uneasy or not, just as he pleases; but Mr. Meredith and I are stockholders, sir; large stockholders.” “Indeed?” said John. “Have you held the stock very long?” “There again, sir, you are asking an impertinent question.” The next moment poor Mr. Cartwright, his temper all gone to shreds, drew a breath of relief, for the maid had opened the door and ushered Mr. Meredith into the library. “Mr. Cartwright and I have been discussing this most unfortunate article in the _Herald_,” said John. “Unfortunate is too mild a word for my feelings,” said Mr. Meredith. Then in his great excitement he made a perfectly original remark,-- “If we had only waited another day--” He stopped there, transfixed by a blasting look from his fellow-trustee, but he had said enough. So that was Sponley’s reason for waiting. As John thought of the beautiful shrewdness of the move, he smiled. “You are amused, eh!” roared Mr. Cartwright. “I understand you. You sold us that stock yourself, and when you have run the bank through a few more scandals, you mean to buy it back cheap. You are a swindler!”