"Indeed!" said Hardie quietly; "that must be regulated." He added
graciously, as if conferring a great favour, "I'll look into the books
myself, Skinner."
He did more: he sat up all night over the books; and his heart died with
him. Bankruptcy seemed coming towards him, slow perhaps, but sure. And
meantime to live with the sword hanging over him by a hair!
Soon matters approached a crisis; several large drafts were drawn, which
would have cleaned the bank out, but that the yearly rents of a wealthy
nobleman had for some days past been flowing in. This nobleman had gone
to explore Syria and Assyria. He was a great traveller, who contrived to
live up to his income at home, but had never been able to spend a quarter
of it abroad, for want of enemies and masters--better known as friends
and servants--to help him. So Hardie was safe for some months, unless
there should be an extraordinary run on him, and that was not likely this
year; the panic had subsided, and, _nota bene,_ his credit had never
stood higher. The reason was, he had been double-faced; had always spoken
against railways: and his wise words were public, whereas his fatal acts
had been done in the dark.
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