I saw him trying to gather out of the corner of his eye the impression that he was making. Everything was working finely, even better than I had hoped. “Yes, of course,” I said. “That £100 I drew was indeed a trifle.” “Nothing at all,” replied the banker. “A mere detail. A drop in the bucket. I might have done much better by you had you needed it,” and he fairly hugged himself at the great coup he was making before the rest of the town. A dozen had come in and stood listening to our conversation. It was now about four, and so I delivered my bomb which I had held until the psychological moment. So I said: “I hesitated to ask for more, Mr. Rodwaner, as I did not suppose your institution was such an important one.” “Important? Yes,” he replied, “though I say it myself, perhaps the most so in Roumania.” “That being the case,” I replied easily, “I believe I’ll have a little more, say £200,” and I lighted a fresh cigar. It was cruel to do it right before them all, but I needed the money, and quickly at that. Rodwaner actually turned pale. One of the clerks, whom I learned was his son, burst forth in German that, already this strange man had borrowed £100, with little or no security, and he objected. I could see that there was a row on, and I must confess that I was mean enough to enjoy it thoroughly. The banker wavered for a second. What should he do? At this moment one of the by-standers, a Greek money-lender, called from the back of the crowd: “I have the moneys for Monsieur if Rodwaner cannot do.” This turned the scale. “Ha, Ha!” cried my friend. “You would steal my customers, you dirty pig. Rodwaner can lend—he will. He does so with pride,” and he booted the protesting son into the corner and then proceeded to clear the shop. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. His local prestige was safe. How much did I need? “Two hundred pounds would do.” Couldn’t I do with less, perhaps. I thought I might be satisfied with £150, and he began to dig. It was evident he hadn’t even that, and so I said we would make it a hundred flat. All his gold came only to £90. “Will that do?” he asked appealingly. “I’m afraid not,” I replied, “but if it is going to inconvenience you, perhaps the Greek banker will.” He held up his hand more in sorrow than in anger, and asked if I could use silver. I agreed, and he began to count it out into piles, first five franc pieces, then two franc and at last ones, and still he was short a few pounds. But he was thoroughly aroused now, and put on his hat and in a few minutes returned with sufficient gold to make up my £100, and I signed a sight draft on the Chicago _News_, shook him warmly by the hand and walked across the street to the _France_, that lay almost at his door.