“Very true. But a number of the banks are carrying securities for you. The idea is that a number of these will have to be called—the majority of them—unless some other way can be devised to-night. We thought you might possibly wish to come and talk it over, and that you might be able to suggest some other way out.” “I see,” replied Cowperwood, caustically. “The idea is to sacrifice me in order to save Hull & Stackpole. Is that it?” His eyes, quite as though Arneel were before him, emitted malicious sparks. “Well, not precisely that,” replied Arneel, conservatively; “but something will have to be done. Don’t you think you had better come over?” “Very good. I’ll come,” was the cheerful reply. “It isn’t anything that can be discussed over the ’phone, anyhow.” He hung up the receiver and called for his runabout. On the way over he thanked the prevision which had caused him, in anticipation of some such attack as this, to set aside in the safety vaults of the Chicago Trust Company several millions in low-interest-bearing government bonds. Now, if worst came to worst, these could be drawn on and hypothecated. These men should see at last how powerful he was and how secure. As he entered the home of Arneel he was a picturesque and truly representative figure of his day. In a light summer suit of cream and gray twill, with a straw hat ornamented by a blue-and-white band, and wearing yellow quarter-shoes of the softest leather, he appeared a very model of trig, well-groomed self-sufficiency. As he was ushered into the room he gazed about him in a brave, leonine way. “A fine night for a conference, gentlemen,” he said, walking toward a chair indicated by Mr. Arneel. “I must say I never saw so many straw hats at a funeral before. I understand that my obsequies are contemplated. What can I do?” He beamed in a genial, sufficient way, which in any one else would have brought a smile to the faces of the company. In him it was an implication of basic power which secretly enraged and envenomed nearly all those present. They merely stirred in a nervous and wholly antagonistic way. A number of those who knew him personally nodded—Merrill, Lawrence, Simms; but there was no friendly light in their eyes. “Well, gentlemen?” he inquired, after a moment or two of ominous silence, observing Hand’s averted face and Schryhart’s eyes, which were lifted ceilingward.