“I think I can,” answered the young man, bravely.  But he did not at all see how his salvation was to be accomplished.  “Can you tell me a little more definitely what is the matter?  Have there been any more failures to-day?”

“My brother-in-law Montevarchi is on the point of stopping payment,” said San Giacinto calmly.

“Montevarchi!”

Orsino did not conceal his astonishment.

“Yes.  Do not speak of it.  And he is in precisely the same position, so far as I can judge of your affairs, as you yourself, though of course he has dealt with sums ten times as great.  He will make enormous sacrifices and will pay, I suppose, after all.  But he will be quite ruined.  He also has worked with Del Fence’s bank.”

“And the bank refuses to discount any more of his paper?”

“Precisely.  Since this afternoon.”

“Then it will refuse to discount mine to-morrow.”

“Have you acceptances due to-morrow?”

“Yes—­not much, but enough to make the trouble.  It will be Saturday, too, and we must have money for the workmen.”

“Have you not even enough in reserve for that?”

“Perhaps.  I cannot tell.  Besides, if the bank refuses to renew I cannot draw a cheque.”

“I am sorry for you.  If I had known yesterday how near the end was, I would have warned you.”

“Thanks.  I am grateful as it is.  Can you give me any advice?”

Orsino had a vague idea that his rich cousin would generously propose to help him out of his difficulties.  He was not quite sure whether he could bring himself to accept such assistance, but he more than half expected that it would be offered.  In this, however, he was completely mistaken.  San Giacinto had not the smallest intention of offering anything more substantial than his opinion.  Considering that his wife’s brother’s liabilities amounted to something like five and twenty millions, this was not surprising.  The giant bit his cigar and folded his long arms over his enormous chest, leaning back in the easy chair which creaked under his weight.

“You have tried yourself in business by this time, Orsino,” he said, “and you know as well as I what there is to be done.  You have three modes of action open to you.  You can fail.  It is a simple affair enough.  The bank will take your buildings for what they will be worth a few months hence, on the day of liquidation.  There will be a big deficit, which your father will pay for you and deduct from your share of the division at his death.  That is one plan, and seems to me the best.  It is perfectly honourable, and you lose by it.  Secondly, you can go to your father to-morrow and ask him to lend you money to meet your acceptances and to continue the work until the houses are finished and can be sold.  They will ultimately go for a quarter of their value, if you can sell them at all within the year, and you will be in your father’s debt, exactly as in the other case.  You would avoid the publicity of a failure, but it would cost you more, because the houses will not be worth much more when they are finished than they are now.”