Transcriber’s Note:  Original cut off between [Sec.]s—­Section
   completed with best guess of correct wording.

“I thought so,” continued the injured Planner.  “Michael, you do not know me.  You do not understand my character.  I am a child to persuade, but a rock if you attempt to force me.  I shall not desert the bank, whilst there is a chance of paying back all that we have drawn.”

“We, sir?”

“Yes—­we.  You and I together for our schemes, and you alone for private purposes.  You recollect your father’s debts”—­

“Planner, do not think to threaten me into further compromise.  You can frighten me no longer—­be sure of that.  Your transactions are the common talk of the city—­the bank is stigmatized by its connexion with you.”

“Curse the bank!” said Planner fretfully.  “Would to Heaven I had never heard of it!”

“Leave it then, and rid yourself of the annoyance.  You are free to do it!”

“What! and leave behind me every chance of realizing a competency for my old age!  Oh, Michael, Michael—­shame, shame!”

“Competency!  Are you serious?  Are you sane?  Competency!  Why, the labour of your life will not make good a tithe of what you have squandered.”

“Come, come, Michael, you know better.  You know well enough that one lucky turn would set us up at last.  Speak like a man.  Say that you want to grasp all—­that you are tired of me—­that you are sick of the old face, and wish to see my back.  Put the thing in its proper light, and you shall not find me hard to deal with.”

“Planner, you are deceived.  Your mind is full of fancy and delusion, and that has been your curse and mine.”

“Very well.  Have your way; but look you, Michael, you are anxious to get rid of me—­there’s no denying that.  There is no reason why we should quarrel on that account.  I would sacrifice my prospects, were they double what they are, rather than beg you to retain me.  I did not ask for a share in your bank.  You sought me, and I came at your request.  Blot out the past.  Release me from the debt that stands against my name, and I am gone.  As I came at your bidding, so, at your bidding, I am ready to depart.”

“Agreed,” said Allcraft, almost before the wily Planner finished.  “It is done.  I consent to your proposal.  A dissolution shall be drawn up without delay, and shall be published in the next gazette.”

“And publish with it,” said Planner, like a martyr as he was, “the fate of him who gave up all to his own high sense of honour, and his friend’s ingratitude.”