The door opened, and a cool-looking, slender man of fifty-odd, with a thin gray face, thin gray hair very smoothly brushed, and keen gray eyes, entered.  He was introduced to Mr. Keith.  After Mr. Creamer had stated the purpose of Keith’s visit and had placed the drafts in Mr. Penwell’s hands, the latter stated, as an interesting item just off the ticker, that he understood Wentworth was in trouble.  Some one had just come and said that there was a run on his bank.

“Those attacks on him in the newspapers must have hurt him considerably,” observed one of the visitors.

“Yes, he has been a good deal hurt,” said Mr. Creamer.  “We are all right, Penwell?” He glanced at his subordinate.

Mr. Penwell nodded with deep satisfaction.

“So are we,” said one of the visitors.  “This is the end of Wentworth & Son.  He will go down.”

“He has been going down for some time.  Wife too extravagant.”

This appeared to be the general opinion.  But Keith scarcely heard the speakers.  He stood in a maze.

The announcement of Norman’s trouble had come to him like a thunder-clap.  And he was standing now as in a dream.  Could it be possible that Norman was going to fail?  And if he failed, would this be all it meant to these men who had known him always?

The vision of an old gentleman sitting in his home, which he had lost, came back to him across the years.

“That young man is a gentleman,” he heard him say.  “It takes a gentleman to write such a letter to a friend in misfortune.  Write to him and say we will never forget his kindness.”  He heard the same old gentleman say, after years of poverty, “You must pay your debt though I give up Elphinstone.”

Was he not now forgetting Norman’s kindness?  But was it not too late?  Could he save him?  Would he not simply be throwing away his money to offer it to him?  Suddenly again, he seemed to hear his father’s voice: 

“The Devil is standing close behind you.  You are at the parting of the ways.  A gentleman cannot hesitate.”

“Mr. Creamer,” he said suddenly, “why don’t Norman Wentworth’s friends come to his rescue and help him out of his difficulties?”

The question might have come from the sky, it was so unexpected.  It evidently caught the others unprepared with an answer.  They simply smiled vaguely.  Mr. Creamer said presently, rubbing his chin: 

“Why, I don’t suppose they know the extent of his difficulties.”

“And I guess he has no collateral to offer?” said another.

“Collateral!  No; everything he has is pledged.”

“But I mean, why don’t they lend him money without collateral, if necessary, to tide him over his trouble?  He is a man of probity.  He has lived here all his life.  He must have many friends able to help him.  They know that if he had time to realize on his properties he would probably pull through.”

With one accord the other occupants of the room turned and looked at Keith.