"Have you heard of Lawrence? He was a banker--one of the
oldest in the city. And Waterman gave him an order, and he defied
him. Then he broke him; took away every dollar he owned. And the man
came to him on his knees. 'I've taught you who is your master,' said
Waterman. 'Now here's your money.' And now Lawrence fawns on him,
and he's got rich and fat. But all his bank exists for is to lend
money when Waterman is floating a merger, and call it in when he is
buying."
Montague could think of nothing to reply to that.
"Mr. Ryder," he began at last, "I cannot be of much use to you now,
because I haven't the facts. All I can tell you is that I am at your
disposal. I will give you my best efforts, if you will let me. That
is all I can say."
And Ryder looked up, the light shining on his white, wan face.
"Thank you, Mr. Montague, he said. "It is very good of you. It is a
help, at least, to hear a word of sympathy. I--I will let you
know--"
"All right," said Montague, rising. He put out his hand, and Ryder
took it tremblingly. "Thank you," he said again.
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