TO borrow money at any time is difficult; to borrow during a panic is impossible. John Steele spent the first half of the second day of the crisis in attempting the impossible. Every man to whom he applied seemed to be in the same position as himself. All stocks had come down in sympathy with the Rockervelt slump, and it seemed as if every person supposed to be rich was then engaged in a frantic endeavour to prevent ruin by putting up all the ready money in hand, or else trying, like John himself, to borrow.

About half past twelve he gave up the quest, and made a second call on his brokers. It was the junior partner again who received him.

“Ah, Mr. Steele,” cried the broker, “here you are, eh? They say all things come to him who waits.”

“That isn’t true in my case,” replied John. “I’ve been waiting all day for money and couldn’t get it. It didn’t come.”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you,” rejoined the broker. “I have had messengers after you all over town. Called at your rooms, at your office, at your club; found any number of people who had just seen you, but not one of the searchers caught sight of you.”

“What’s the news?” asked John, without much hope.

“We hung on to your stock till ten minutes to twelve, and then we had to let it go. We were lucky enough to get a purchaser for the whole block at a price that just cleared us, but I can tell you I spent a bad quarter of an hour before I got into touch with him.”

“When you say cleared, I suppose you mean that I’m entirely wiped out, but you got from under without loss.”

“I don’t know a better way of putting it than that,” replied the broker.

“I didn’t think there was a man in town with ready money enough to make such a purchase to-day. I wish I had managed to encounter him. Perhaps I might have detached twenty-one thousand dollars from him.”

“It is very likely, for he is a friend of yours, and from your own office. He said there was no secret about it; so I may as well tell you the purchaser is Mr. Blair, general manager of the Midland.”

“Oh, he’s back from New York, is he?”

“Yes, he returned this morning; haven’t you seen him? Haven’t you been at your office at all today?”

“No, I’ve been calling on friends and acquaintances. I suppose the stock is going up now?”

“Well, such a large purchase had first the effect of putting the brakes on its downhill course, and now it has recovered two points. Then the news from New York is encouraging. It seems that the Rockervelt forces, both in New York and Chicago, are buying all that is offered. You see, Mr. Rockervelt himself left for the West just before the scare, and I imagine he didn’t realise how serious it was.”

“Quite so. I heard he had gone West. Pity there are no telegraph wires to the West, isn’t it?”

The broker laughed.

“Oh, I guess Mr. Rockervelt is as foxy as they make ’em. I don’t suppose he’s lost anything over this shake-up, and perhaps he thought it was a good time to squeeze a little of the dampness out of the stock. I expect a very rapid recovery. The country is prosperous, and from the way things look this last hour or two we’ve been going through a little squall, but not entering upon a financial crisis.”

“That’s a blessing,” said John with a sigh; “still, the squall has upset my canoe, even if the big liners ride through it. Good-bye.”

Once outside, instead of feeling depressed, as he had expected, John experienced an unaccountable thrill of elation. The disaster was complete; complete beyond recall; complete in spite of anything he did or did not do. The very finality of the catastrophe seemed to lift a weight that had been oppressing him for a night and a day. He remembered that he had had practically no dinner the evening before, and no breakfast that morning, and now a fierce and healthy hunger which seemed to have been biding its time sprang upon him. A glance at his watch showed that it was nearly two o’clock. He walked rapidly to the University Club, noted for its excellent cuisine, and wrote on an order card the menu of a sumptuous meal. A deferential servitor approached silently to his elbow.

“Mr. Steele, No. 1623 wants you on the telephone.”

“All right, ring him up, and tell him I’ll be there in a moment, and if he is impatient, inform him I am at present engaged on the important choice between camembert and brie.”

Sending his order upstairs, he went into the little telephone cabin. He knew the number meant the general manager’s office.

“Hello, is that you, Blair?—Yes, this is Steele.—What’s that?—Oh, no, now that you mention it, I haven’t been there last night or this morning. How’s the old road running?—What? It isn’t doing so well outside.—Oh, if it comes to that, I’ve been general manager and division superintendent for the past week, so surely you can act Pooh Bah for a day. To tell the truth, it seemed to me that a road whose stock was falling so rapidly wasn’t worth general managering or division superintending.—Levity? Bless you, no! I’m the most serious man in town.—Oh, I’m sorry you think my remarks flippant. Have you had lunch? I’ve just ordered a meal for a millionaire; come down and have a bite with me.—Oh, had it, eh? You’re an early bird. I’ve ordered a late bird grilled upstairs. Sure you won’t drop round, and have a cup of coffee and a liqueur?—Yes, I see, you’re quite right. Somebody must attend to business.—Well, I’ll drop round on you at four o’clock. Good-bye.”

John Steele allowed himself a good hour and three-quarters for his luncheon, then he strolled down to the Grand Union Station, and, exactly as the big bell in the tower tolled four he walked into the general manager’s room.

Mr. Blair was seated at his broad table, and as he looked up his chubby face was a study in various emotions. Superficially it wore the conventional, official frown which a great man may call to his aid when a subordinate’s conduct has been such as to merit disapproval. The severity of the frown, however, was chastened by the expression of the just man, who, although righteously offended, is nevertheless prepared to listen to an explanation, and perhaps accept an apology. The lips were prepared to censure, or even, in a last resort, to condemn, although, if the case merited leniency, one would not be surprised to hear them admonish and advise. It was the face of a simple and honest man, willing to forgive, yet not afraid to punish.

The eyes, however, rather gave the situation away. In them twinkled triumph and glee, and lurking in their depths was a background of malice and hatred.

“Mr. Steele, I was amazed to find on my return from New York that you had absented yourself without permission from your duties,” began Mr. Blair, in a sincere more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger tone.

“Oh, that’s all right,” said John airily. “I was general manager pro tem., you see, and a general manager may do what he pleases. But I was division superintendent also, so I asked the general manager for an hour or two off, and permission was granted me.”

“As you know, Mr. Steele, I am the most forbearing of men, but such a tone as you have adopted will not do. As I told you over the telephone I was surprised at the flippant manner you thought fit to adopt, but I expected a satisfactory explanation when we met face to face.”

“If that is the case, sir, I shall be so sorry to disappoint you. The satisfactory explanation I beg to offer for my absence is that I was busily engaged in gambling.”

“Gambling!” cried Mr. Blair in astonishment; “this is shocking. It is my opinion that a man cannot be an efficient servant of a great railway and a speculator at the same time.”

“I quite agree with you, Mr. Blair, and we are two shining examples of the truth of your aphorism. You are the most inefficient railway servant I ever met, and at the same time the most successful gambler. I am an excellent railway man and the most idiotic speculator there is in the country at the present moment. What’s the use of wasting that sanctimonious ‘holier-than-thou’ look of yours? You know, and I know, that you don’t care a hang about my being away a day. What you want me here for is to gloat over me. You’ve got my three hundred thousand dollars as slick as any bunco man ever achieved a much smaller sum over a green farm hand from the country. I’m here, not to receive any censure or to make any apology, but so that you may enjoy the effects of my humiliation and defeat. I am the last person in the world to deprive another of innocent amusement. Here I am, therefore. I have just come out of the tail end of the threshing machine, and have brought the remnants for your inspection. What do you think of them?”

“I am exceedingly sorry to hear that you have been unfortunate in your financial transactions.”

“Of course you are. Thanks ever so much.”

“Did you succeed in raising twenty-one thousand on your Northern Pacific stock?”

“No, I have it with me yet. That N. P. stock sticks to me closer than any friend I have in town. You don’t want to buy it by any chance?”

“No,” said Blair smoothly. “I have quite recently made a very large investment in Midland shares, re-buying a block that I was fortunate enough to sell at its highest point, and have therefore no desire to acquire further securities at the present moment.”

“You’re just in the same fix as all the rest of my acquaintances, Mr. Blair, so your refusal does not disappoint me.”

“You lost also the thirty thousand you had in the Bank at Detroit?”

This was said very quietly, and for a moment amazed the listener by the accurate knowledge the elder man possessed of his affairs. The next instant John Steele gave utterance to a shriek of laughter, smiting his thigh with his open palm as if he had just heard the best joke in the world. The young man strode up and down the room giving way to shout after shout of hilarity, while the elder, all trace of humbug vanishing from his face, rose to his feet in alarm, believing that misfortune had turned the other’s brain, and fearing a transformation into a sudden savagery that might make his isolated position one of danger. His eyes rested longingly on the door, while his hand nervously sought the electric button. John, seeing these premonitions of interruption, controlled himself with an effort, and stammered: “Sit down, Blair; it’s all right. Don’t get frightened. I’ll explain in a minute. You see, it was this way,” said John, coming up in front of the table again, and resolutely crushing down his bubbling tendency to merriment; “that thirty thousand was deposited in the Detroit bank by my late uncle. I possess my own little bank account here, which I have been adding to week by week. Consequently, I never needed to draw a check upon Detroit. Now, the funny thing is that I have been searching this town from cellar to garret that I might borrow twenty-one thousand dollars, and all the while I could have drawn my own check for the amount, and had nine thousand odd left over.”

“Do you mean to say, then,” said Blair, visibly disappointed, “that you didn’t put in the thirty thousand as margin?”

“I did not. Do you feel you ought to have a check for that thirty thousand? You remind me of the hotel keeper at a summer resort down East, whose customer said: ‘You have made a mistake in my bill,’ and when the proprietor denied that there could be any error, the guest explained: ‘Oh, there must be, for I have still ten dollars left.’ The beautiful part of it is, Blair, that if I had thought of my thirty thousand I would have put it in; so I am mighty glad I didn’t think of it, for it would not have saved me. I was looking over the figures of the decline on the tape at the club, and found that the stuff reached its lowest point at about half-past eleven, and that point would have not only wiped out my thirty thousand, but another thirty thousand as well. The brokers told me they had hung on till ten minutes to twelve, but they evidently knew their customer, and got out on the rise. I am afraid, Blair, that even brokers are not truthful men. It’s a wonder that staunch, true hearts like you and me can make a living in this deceitful world. Well, Mr. Blair, I have come to bid you good-bye, and I venture to predict that I’ll have more fun out of that thirty thousand dollars than I had out of the three hundred thousand. Wealth isn’t everything here below. Meanwhile keep on living a virtuous life, and you will reap your reward by and by. Never become discouraged in well-doing. Ta-ta.”

With that John Steele took his departure from the Grand Union Station, packed up his traps, and took train for Detroit, where he lifted his money from the bank, and left on the night express for New York.

Here he rented Drawer 907 in the Broadway Safe Deposit Vaults, and in this drawer he placed his Northern Pacific stock and locked it up. He next turned his money, all but a thousand dollars, into a letter of credit on Europe; then bought a first-class ticket to France on the biggest boat sailing that week. He determined to burn his bridges behind him before he called on his old friend Philip Manson, for he knew instinctively that Manson would strongly disapprove of the course he had laid out for himself, and, remembering his great esteem and affection for Manson, he was not sure enough of himself to venture within the circle of his influence without some extraneous aid to hold him to his purpose.

It was nearing twelve o’clock when he went up in one of the half-dozen elevators of the huge Rockervelt building, and was ushered into Philip Manson’s room.

“Hello, Mr. Manson, how are you?” he cried cheerily, as his former chief rose to greet him. Although he called the much more important general manager plain “Blair,” he never was able to drop the prefix “Mr.” from Man-son’s name. His respect for his solemn friend was as deep as his affection, and the strong regard manifested itself unconsciously in this manner. Manson’s appearance gave no indication that he had passed through a crisis which had ruined him. He was the same quiet, reserved man he had always been, and a touch of grey at the temples was all the change John noticed as having taken place since he saw him last. The stern face relaxed into a bright expression of welcome as he shook hands with the young man from the West.

“I am very glad to see you,” said Manson. “Did you get my letter?”

“No, I left Warmington the day I telegraphed you.”

“Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. It was merely about your telegram I wrote. I am very sorry indeed that it proved impossible for me to send you the money, and I merely wrote a fuller explanation than my telegram contained.”

“You got caught in the crash, then?” said Steele.

“Yes, everything I possessed was swept away. It serves me right for doing what I never did in my life before, which is to dabble in stocks. Was I right in supposing from your telegram that you also had become involved?”

“Yes, and if you had sent me the money it would have been lost; so you see, you don’t need to regret that you didn’t have it. The funny thing is that I had myself thirty thousand dollars in the Detroit Bank, which, in the excitement of the day, slipped my memory as effectually as if it had been only thirty cents.”

“And did you save it?” asked Manson, with as near an approach to eagerness as he could show.

“Oh, yes, but the saving was an act of Providence, as we always try to make out our accidents are, and not through any sanity on my part. How did you come to put everything in stocks? I thought you never gambled?”

“I didn’t, up till about a week ago. Colonel Beck gave me the straight tip, which I understood came direct from Mr. Rockervelt, and I was foolish enough to act upon it.”

“He did the same kind office for me, but he’s merely a stool-pigeon for old Blair. Blair was the man behind the gun.”

“We have no proof of that,” said Manson, judicially.

“I have proof. Blair didn’t hesitate to confess as much after he had raked in my money. Blair’s one of those oily hypocrites who smile and smile, and remain the villain. He never forgives, though he may appear to do so.”

“You were always inclined to be prejudiced against Mr. Blair, John,” said Manson meditatively. “Still, there’s little use in talking of what is past. I suppose you read Mr. Rockervelt’s statement in the papers?”

“Admirable piece of virtuous indignation, isn’t it? What a beautiful sermon against all speculation! And yet it is stated very freely that those on the inside have made millions by selling the road and buying it back again. I wonder what fool it was that said you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too.”

“Well, let’s think no more about it. When are you going back West, John?”

“I leave to-morrow, at noon, but I don’t go West; I go East.”

“East?”

“Yes, I sail on the first out-going liner to-morrow, and hope to drop off in France.”

“Why, you’ve never given up your situation, have you?”

“Oh, yes, it was impossible for me to remain. I’m done with railroading.”

“Nonsense. What’s your purpose?”

“Mr. Manson, I don’t exactly know. Reason tells me that I’m no worse off than I was the day my uncle died, when I had little thought of coming into any money I didn’t earn. Indeed, I am very much better off. My salary has been doubled. I have thirty thousand dollars in cash, and a bundle of Northern Pacific securities which has just been placed in the Broadway Safe Deposit. I don’t understand myself in the least. Reason tells me that I ought to get angry and slaughter somebody, yet I feel no resentment. I am hurt, rather, that I was sand-bagged in the house of my friends. Still, even that fact doesn’t appear to affect me much. Nevertheless, there’s a change. I suspect it’s the beginning of dry-rot. I fear that from being a useful man I have become a useless one. The utter folly of hard work, faithful service, reasonable honesty, and all that, has been brought home to me.”

“Nonsense, nonsense, John,” expostulated Manson.

“I am not theorising, Mr. Manson, but am merely trying to explain something to you which I do not myself understand. My uncle managed to get together a certain amount of money during thirty-five years. I lost that money in as many hours. If I worked honestly like a beaver for the next ten, fifteen or twenty years, it is unlikely I could save that much; yet my dear friend Blair, during, say, half an hour’s silent meditation, evolves a plan, perfectly legal, by which the money is transferred from my bank account to his—transferred beyond possibility of recall. You will say perhaps, as my broker said, that I am just as bad as he is. I expected to place some one else’s money in my bank account, beyond recall, and didn’t succeed. Therefore I make a row. But the truth is, I am not making a row. I admit all any critic may say of my folly, but I realise that being an honest, hard-working efficient man doesn’t pay in this country. At least, it pays only in allowing you to scrape together a modest competency, which may be quite lawfully filched from you in ten minutes. You will add I am a fool to throw over my shoulder a situation worth five thousand a year. You may even mention the hundred thousand young fellows of my age who would jump at my chance. I admit all that; I admit I’m a fool; I admit anything. I am the most open-minded person on earth at the present moment, and the least argumentative. I am like a boat that has been tied to a pier until somebody has cut the rope, sending it adrift. If you ask the boat where it’s going, it doesn’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I am only aware that I’ve got close on thirty thousand dollars in a letter of credit. I can have a high old time on that money for a year in Paris. I can have an hilarious time on it for two years in various capitals. I can study in Germany with the greatest luxury for five or ten years on that amount, or I can live thirty years in Europe in some quiet out-of-the-way place and be sure I shan’t die of starvation. I’m all at sea, like the boat I was speaking of. I thought I knew John Steele pretty well, but I find I don’t know him at all. All his ideas of morality, energy, industry, have turned somersaults. I am going over to Europe, where it’s quiet, to get acquainted with the new John Steele.”

Philip Manson had been regarding him with almost painful concentration while he spoke, and when the harangue was finished he said, soothingly, persuasively, looking at John: “Come with me up to the Adirondacks and enjoy a week’s fishing, or to Maine, and put in two weeks, or to Canada, and stay three weeks.”

Steele laughed heartily.

“Oh, yes, I know. Why don’t you advise me to go to some sanitarium and consult a physician on mental aberration? I want to fish, but it is to fish out the secrets of John Steele. By this time to-morrow I shall be kissing the tips of my fingers to the statue of Liberty.”

“John,” said Manson, solemnly, “you are taking a false step. If you go to Europe in this frame of mind you are making a grave mistake which may not be easily remedied. Opportunities come once, twice, thrice, but they don’t come always, and if they find a man persistently not at home, they pass on. In a year or two this little set-back you have experienced will have almost completely passed away from your mind. Look at me. I am a much older man than you. I have lost everything I succeeded in accumulating, yet I set my face toward re-earning it. You are on the threshold of a great success; you have in you the making of a first-class general manager. Now, I can well understand that you don’t care to be in an office that contains Mr. Blair. I cannot say I blame you for that, but Mr. Rockervelt will be back here the day after to-morrow. You wait till he comes; I’ll go in and see him, and I am sure you will be offered a position that will give you ample scope for the powers we both know you to possess.”

Steele shook his head slowly.

“I have told you, and evidently you don’t believe it, that I have no desire to develop any powers of usefulness I may possess. I suppose I am in the state of mind that makes a labouring man become a tramp. You are a stalwart oak of the forest, Mr. Manson, and the gale that has merely ruffled your branches has uprooted the sapling.”

“Nonsense, John; it has simply given the sapling a bit of a twist.”

“That may be so. It is quite possible that by the time I touch at Southampton or Cherbourg I may be yearning for that stolid old statue of Liberty again, and perhaps I shall take the next steamer back. In that case Mr. Rockervelt will have had the disadvantage of endeavouring to run his system without me for three weeks or thereabouts, and so we will deal with him more effectually than we would the day after to-morrow, when he doesn’t know what a vacuum my absence has caused.”

“Don’t try to be cynical, John. It doesn’t sound convincing from the lips of so sensible and capable a young fellow as you are.”

“On the other hand,” John went on unheeding, “it may be that I have taken to the road; that I am in reality the tramp I feel myself to be. Perhaps there has been a mistake in the outset, and Europe is really my country, not America. My father was born over there, and who knows but that thousands of years of ancestry are calling to me. That is a question Europe will settle. I half suspect that I shall feel so out of it after a month over there that you’ll find me again coming up this express elevator before you realise I’ve been away. Any how, my steamer ticket is in my pocket, and I am off to Cherbourg or wherever they like to land me, in the morning. And now, Mr. Manson, you know this wicked city better than I do. Let’s get out to some good eating house and enjoy a substantial meal. What’s the best restaurant in town? It isn’t every day a capitalist asks you to lunch with him. I’m the prodigal son, so we’ll reverse the ancient parable and kill the fatted calf before I start on my travels.”