“Stocks!” said Sandford, with an air of contempt.  “There isn’t a bank that is worth that”—­snapping his fingers.  “They keep on their legs only by sufferance; if put to the test, they could not redeem their notes a day.  The factories are worse yet,—­rotten, hollow.  Railroads, —­eaten up with bonds and mortgages.”

“Well, perhaps you have done wisely.  Time will show.”

“I sent for you,” said Sandford, “because I knew you must be anxious.  I gave you a part of the interest, you know.  You’ll take these notes?  You approve of my judgment?”

“I must, I suppose.  Yes,—­you can make the transfers to me, if you like.  They may as well remain with you, however.”

Sandford drew a long breath with a sense of relief.  If he were to be hard pushed, these notes would serve for collateral securities.

Monroe left the office, not quite so cheerful as when he came.  He remembered his mother’s regrets at the disposition of the money,—­their all.  His own health had been failing.  His relative, whom he went to see, was dead; and now that his cousin had accepted his invitation to come and live with him, he felt an increased solicitude about the future.

Sandford’s main anxiety now was to provide for Stearine’s note, which he felt assured the promisor could not meet.  He dared not let the loss fall upon the Vortex until every expedient had been tried; for such an affair would lead at once to an unwelcome investigation of the Company’s accounts.  He determined first to see Bullion, to whom the note was due.  He found that gentleman cool, tranquil, and not at all frightened, as he supposed he would be, at the idea of a protest.  The truth was, that Bullion had already made so much in his operations, that he could easily “lift” the note; but as long as his capital was yielding such golden returns, he was not disposed to use it in that way until obliged to do so.  Besides, he believed, from Sandford’s anxiety, that he would himself make an effort to raise the money elsewhere.  He was quite easy, therefore.

“Stearine must look out for his own paper; if he don’t, he must go down.  If I have to pay it, I shall any way get a dividend out of him, and, what is better, get a few days’ time.  Time is money, these days.”

There was no course for Sandford, then, but to sell or hypothecate the shares of stock he held.  Then the thought of the still falling prices frightened him.  The stocks he had to sell were already quoted far below their usual price, and he, in common with all the street, had heard of the secret irresistible influence that was bearing down upon the daily sales.  If Tonsor should come into market against him, the consequences might be ruinous.  It was out of the question for him to stand up against any further serious depreciation.

To Tonsor he went, in the hope of persuading or buying him off from his destructive course.  As he entered the broker’s door he saw Fletcher hand over a package of bills, and just caught the words, “Forty-five thousand.”  What was Fletcher doing?  He remembered that he had not met his old agent for some days, and he knew well that such a scheming brain would not be idle in a time like this.  A light flashed upon him.  Was Fletcher in the conspiracy?  If he knew and shared in the scheme, the secret should be wrenched from him.