Turlington’s house, the foreign merchants had drawn their bills on him for sums large in the aggregate, if not large in themselves; had long since turned those bills into cash in their own markets, for their own necessities; and had now left the money which their paper represented to be paid by their London correspondents as it fell due.  In some instances, they had sent nothing but promises and excuses.  In others, they had forwarded drafts on firms which had failed already, or which were about to fail, in the crisis.  After first exhausting his resources in ready money, Mr. Branca had provided for the more pressing necessities by pledging the credit of the house, so far as he could pledge it without exciting suspicion of the truth.  This done, there were actually left, between that time and Christmas, liabilities to be met to the extent of forty thousand pounds, without a farthing in hand to pay that formidable debt.

After working through the night, this was the conclusion at which Richard Turlington arrived, when the rising sun looked in at him through the windows of his private room.

The whole force of the blow had fallen on him.  The share of his partners in the business was of the most trifling nature.  The capital was his, the risk was his.  Personally and privately, he had to find the money, or to confront the one other alternative—­ruin.

How was the money to be found?

With his position in the City, he had only to go to the famous money-lending and discounting house of Bulpit Brothers—­reported to “turn over” millions in their business every year—­and to supply himself at once with the necessary funds.  Forty thousand pounds was a trifling transaction to Bulpit Brothers.

Having got the money, how, in the present state of his trade, was the loan to be paid back?

His thoughts reverted to his marriage with Natalie.

“Curious!” he said to himself, recalling his conversation with Sir Joseph on board the yacht.  “Graybrooke told me he would give his daughter half his fortune on her marriage.  Half Graybrooke’s fortune happens to be just forty thousand pounds!” He took a turn in the room.  No!  It was impossible to apply to Sir Joseph.  Once shake Sir Joseph’s conviction of his commercial solidity, and the marriage would be certainly deferred—­if not absolutely broken off.  Sir Joseph’s fortune could be made available, in the present emergency, in but one way—­he might use it to repay his debt.  He had only to make the date at which the loan expired coincide with the date of his marriage, and there was his father-in-law’s money at his disposal, or at his wife’s disposal—­which meant the same thing.  “It’s well I pressed Graybrooke about the marriage when I did!” he thought.  “I can borrow the money at a short date.  In three months from this Natalie will be my wife.”

He drove to his club to get breakfast, with his mind cleared, for the time being, of all its anxieties but one.