“No thanks.  You won’t,” Charlie replied.  “I wouldn’t let you, even if you could.  But you can’t.  It’s too big.”

“Ah!  How big is it?” Mr. Prohack challengingly raised his chin.

“Well, if you want to know the truth, it’s between a hundred and forty and a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.  I mean, that’s what I should need to save the situation.”

“You?” cried the Terror of the departments in amaze, accustomed though he was to dealing in millions.  He had gravely miscalculated his son.  Ten thousand he could have understood; even twenty thousand.  But a hundred and fifty...!  “You must have been mad!”

“Only because I’ve failed,” said Charles.  “Yes.  It’ll be a great affair.  It’ll really make my name.  Everybody will expect me to bob up again, and I shan’t disappoint them.  Of course some people will say I oughtn’t to have been extravagant.  Grand Babylon Hotel and so on.  What rot!  A flea-bite!  Why, my expenses haven’t been seven hundred a month.”

Mr. Prohack sat aghast; but admiration was not absent from his sentiments.  The lad was incredible in the scale of his operations; he was unreal, wagging his elegant leg so calmly there in the midst of all that fragile Japanese lacquer—­and the family, grotesquely unconscious of the vastness of the issues, chatting domestically only a few feet away.  But Mr. Prohack was not going to be outdone by his son, however Napoleonic his son might be.  He would maintain his prestige as a father.

“I’ll see you through,” he repeated, with studied quietness.

“But look here, dad.  You only came into a hundred thousand.  I can’t have you ruining yourself.  And even if you did ruin yourself—­”

“I have no intention of ruining myself,” said Mr. Prohack.  “Nor shall I change in the slightest degree my mode of life.  You don’t know everything, my child.  You aren’t the only person on earth who can make money.  Where do you imagine you get your gifts from?  Your mother?”

“But—­”

“Be silent.  To-morrow morning gilt-edged, immediately saleable securities will be placed at your disposal for a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.  I never indulge in wildcat stock myself.  And let me tell you there can be no question of your permitting or not permitting.  I’m your father, and please don’t forget it.  It doesn’t happen to suit me that my infant prodigy of a son should make a mess of his career; and I won’t have it.  If there’s any doubt in your mind as to whether you or I are the strongest, rule yourself out of the competition this instant,—­it’ll save you trouble in the end.”

Mr. Prohack had never felt so happy in his life; and yet he had had moments of intense happiness in the past.  He could feel the skin of his face burning.

“You’ll get it all back, dad,” said Charlie later.  “No amount of suicides can destroy the assets of the R.R.  It’s only that the market lost its head and absolutely broke to pieces under me.  In three months—­”