Excerpt
BROKEN
“The expected has happened, I see,” said Macloud, laying aside the paper he had been reading, and raising his hand for a servant.
“I thought it was the unexpected that happens,” Hungerford drawled, languidly. “What do you mean?”
“Royster & Axtell have been thrown into bankruptcy. Liabilities of twenty million, assets problematical.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated Hungerford, sitting up sharply. “Have they caught any of our friends?”
“All who dealt with them, I reckon.”
“Too bad! Too bad!—Well, they didn’t catch me.”
“Oh, no! you’re not caught!” said Macloud. “Your father was wise enough to put your estate into Government threes, with a trustee who had no power to change the investment.”
“And I’m thankful he did,” Hungerford answered. “It saves me all trouble; I need never look at the stock report, don’t you know; Government bonds are always the same.—I suppose it’s a reflection on my ability, but that is of small consequence. I don’t care what people think, so long as I have the income and no trouble. If I had control of my capital, I might have lost all of it with Royster & Axtell, who knows?”
Macloud shook his head.
“It isn’t likely,” he commented, “you wouldn’t have had it to lose.”
Hungerford’s momentarily vague look suddenly became knowing.
“You mean I would have lost it long ago?” he asked. “Oh, I say, old man, you’re a bit hard on me. I may not have much head for business, but I’m not altogether a fool, don’t you know.”
“Glad to know it,” laughed Macloud, as he arose and sauntered away.
Hungerford drew out his cigarettes and thoughtfully lighted one.
“I wonder—did he mean I am or I am not?” he said. “I wonder. I shall have to ask him some time.—Boy! a Scotch and soda.”
Meanwhile, Macloud passed into the Club-house and, mounting the stairs to the second floor, knocked sharply at a door in the north-west corner of the corridor.
“Come in,” called a voice.—“Who is it?—Oh! it’s you, Macloud. Make yourself at home—I’ll be out in a moment.”
There was the noise of splashing water, accompanied by sundry exclamations and snorts, followed by a period of silence; and, then, from the bath room, emerged Croyden clad in robe, slippers and a smile.
“Help yourself,” he said, pointing to the smoking materials. He filled a pipe, lit it carefully, blew a few whiffs to the ceiling and watched them slowly dissipate.
“Well, it’s come,” he remarked: “Royster & Axtell have smashed clean.”
“Not clean,” said Macloud. “It is going to be the most criminal failure this town has ever known.”
“I mean they have busted wide open—and I’m one of the suckers.”
“You are going to have plenty of company, among your friends,” Macloud answered.
“I suppose so—but I hope none of them is hit quite so bad.” He blew another cloud of smoke and watched it fade. “The truth is, Colin, I’m done for.”
“What!” exclaimed Macloud....