Ovington's Bank

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XIII

  The Squire in his inmost heart had not derived much satisfaction fromhis visit to the bank. He had left it with an uneasy feeling that thestep he had taken had not produced the intended effect. Ovington hadaccepted the loss of his custom, not indeed with indifference, butwith dignity, and in a manner which left the old man little upon whichto plume himself. The withdrawal of his custom wore in the retrospecttoo much of the look of spite, and he came near to regretting it, ashe drove along.

  Had he been present at an interview which took place after he hadretired, he might have been better pleased. The banker had not beenmany minutes in the parlor, chewing the cud of the affair, before hewas interrupted by his cashier. In this there was nothing unusual;routine required Rodd's presence in the parlor several times in theday. But his manner on the present occasion, and the way in which heclosed the door, prepared Ovington for something new, and "What is it,Rodd?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, and disposing himself tolisten.

  "Can I have a word with you, sir?"

  "Certainly." The banker's face told nothing. Rodd's was that of a manwho had made up his mind to a plunge. "What is it?"

  "I have been wishing to speak for some time, sir," Rodd faltered."This----" Ovington understood at once that he referred to theSquire's matter--"I don't like it, sir, and I have been with you tenyears, and I feel--I ought to speak."

  Ovington shrugged his shoulders. "I don't like it either," he said."But it is of less importance than you think, Rodd. I know why Mr.Griffin did it. And we are not now where we were. The withdrawal of afew hundreds or the loss of a customer----" again he shrugged hisshoulders.

  "No," Rodd said gravely. "If nothing more follows, sir."

  "Why should anything follow? I know his reasons."

  "But the town doesn't. And if it gets about, sir?"

  "It won't do us much damage. We've lost customers before, yet alwaysgained more than we lost. But there, Rodd, that is not what you camein to say. What is it?" He spoke lightly, but he felt more surprisethan he showed. Rodd was a model cashier, performing his duties in aprecise, plodding fashion that had often excited Arthur's ridicule;but hitherto he had never ventured an opinion on the policy of thebank, nor betrayed the least curiosity respecting its secrets. "Whatis it?" Ovington repeated. "What has frightened you, man?"

  "We've a lot of notes out, sir!"

  The banker looked thoughtfully at the glasses he held in his hand."True," he said. "Quite true. But trade is brisk, and the demand forcredit is large. We must meet the demand, Rodd, as far as we can--withsafety. That's our business."

  "And we've a lot of money out--that could not be got in in a hurry,sir."

  "Yes," the banker admitted, "but that is our business, too. If we didnot put our money out we might close the bank to-morrow. That much ofthe money cannot be got in at a minute's notice is a thing we cannotavoid."

  The perspiration stood on Rodd's forehead, but he persisted. "If itwere all on bills, sir, I would not say a word. But there is a lot onoverdraft."

  "Well secured."

  "While things are up. But if things went down, sir? There's Wolley'saccount. I suspect that the last bills we discounted for him wereaccommodation. Indeed, I am sure of it. And his overdraft is heavy."

  "We hold the lease of his mill."

  "But you don't want to run the mill!" Rodd replied, putting his fingeron the weak point.

  The banker reflected. "That's the worst account we have. The worst,isn't it?"

  "Mr. Acherley's, sir."

  "Well, yes. There might be a sounder account than that. But what isit?" He looked directly at the other. "I want to know what has openedyour mouth? Have you heard anything? What makes you think that thingsare going down?"

  "Mr. Griffin----"

  "No." The banker shook his head. "That won't do, Rodd. You had this inyour mind before he came in. You are pat with Wolley and Mr. Acherley;bad accounts both, as all banks have bad accounts here and there. Butit's true--we've been giving our customers rope, and they have boughtthings that may fall. Still, they've made money, a good deal of money,and we've kept a fair margin and obliged them at the same time. Alllegitimate business. There must be something in your mind besidesthis, I'm sure. What is it, lad?"

  The cashier turned a dull red, but before he could answer the doorbehind him opened. Arthur came in. He looked at the banker, and fromhim to Rodd, and his suspicions were aroused. "It's four o'clock,sir," he said, and looked again at Rodd as if to ask what he was doingthere.

  But Rodd held his ground, and the banker explained.

  "Rodd is a little alarmed for us," he said, and it was difficult to besure whether he spoke in jest or in earnest. "He thinks we're goingtoo fast. Putting our hand out too far. He mentions Wolley's account,and Acherley's.

  "I was speaking generally," Rodd muttered. He looked sullen.

  Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "I stand corrected," he said. "I didn'tknow that Rodd ever went beyond his ledgers."

  "Oh, he's quite right to speak his mind. We are all in the sameboat--though we do not all steer."

  "Well, I'm glad of that, sir."

  "Still," mildly, "it is a good thing to have an opinion."

  "If it be worth anything."

  "If opinions are going----" Betty had opened the door behind thebanker's chair, and was standing on the threshold--"wouldn't you liketo have mine, father?"

  "To be sure," Arthur said. "Why not, indeed? Let us have it. Why nothave everybody's? And send for the cook, sir, and the two clerks--toadvise us?"

  Betty dropped a curtsy. "Thank you, I am flattered."

  "Betty, you've no business here," her father said. "You mustn't stopunless you can keep your opinions to yourself."

  "But what has happened?" she asked, looking around in wonder.

  "Mr. Griffin has withdrawn his account."

  "And Rodd," Arthur added, with more heat than the occasion seemed todemand, "thinks that we had better put up the shutters!"

  "No, no," the banker said. "We must do him justice. He thinks that weare going a little too far, that's all. And that the loss of Mr.Griffin's account is a danger signal. That's what you mean, man, isn'tit?"

  Rodd nodded, his face stubborn. He stood alone, divided from the otherthree by the table, for Arthur had passed round it and placed himselfat Ovington's elbow.

  "His view," the banker continued, polishing his glasses with hishandkerchief and looking thoughtfully at them, "is that if there camea check in trade and a fall in values, the bank might find itsresources strained--I'll put it that way."

  Arthur sneered. "Singular wisdom! But a fall--a general fall at anyrate--what sign is there of it?" He was provoked by the banker's wayof taking it. Ovington seemed to be attaching absurd weight to Rodd'ssuggestion. "None!" contemptuously. "Not a jot."

  "There's been a universal rise," Rodd muttered.

  "In a moment? Without warning?"

  "No, but----"

  "But fiddlesticks!" Arthur retorted. Of late it seemed as if his goodhumor had deserted him, and this was not the first sign he had givenof an uncertain temper. Still, the phase was so new that two of thosepresent looked curiously at him, and his consciousness of this addedto his irritation. "Rodd's no better than an old woman," he continued."Five per cent. and a mortgage in a strong box is about his measure.If you are going to listen to every croaker who is frightened by ashadow, you may as well close the bank, sir, and put the money out onRodd's terms!"

  "Still Rodd means us well," the banker said thoughtfully, "and alittle caution is never out of place in a bank. What I want to getfrom him is--has he anything definite to tell us? Wolley? Have youheard anything about Wolley, Rodd?"

  "No, sir."

  "Then what is it? What is it, man?"

  But Rodd, brought to bay, only looked more stubborn. "It's no morethan I've told you, sir," he muttered, "it's just a feeling. Thingsmust come down some day."

  "Oh, damn!" Arthur exclaimed, out of pati
ence, and thinking that thebanker was making altogether too much of it--and of Rodd. "If he werea weather-glass----"

  "Or a woman!" interjected Betty, who was observing all with brightinscrutable eyes.

  "But as he isn't either," Arthur continued impatiently, "I fail to seewhy you make so much of it! Of course, things will come down some day,but if he thinks that with your experience you are blind to anythinghe is likely to see, he's no better than a fool! Because my uncle, forreasons which you understand, sir, has drawn out four hundred pounds,he thinks every customer is going to leave us, and Ovington's must putup the shutters! The truth is, he knows nothing about it, and if hewishes to damage the bank he is going the right way to do it!"

  "Would you like my opinion, father?" Betty asked.

  "No," sharply, "certainly not, child. Where's Clement?"

  "Well, I'm afraid he's away."

  "Again? Then he is behaving very badly!"

  "That was the opinion I was going to give," the girl answered. "Thatsome were behaving better than others."

  "If," Arthur cried, "you mean me----"

  "There, enough," said her father. "Be silent, Betty. You've nobusiness to be here."

  "Still, people should behave themselves," she replied, her eyessparkling.

  Arthur had his answer ready, but Ovington forestalled him. "Very good,Rodd," he said. "A word on the side of caution is never out of placein a bank. But I am not blind, and all that you have told me is in mymind. Thank you. You can go now."

  It was a dismissal, and Rodd took it as such, and felt, as he hadnever felt before, his subordinate position. Why he did so, and why,as he withdrew under Arthur's eye, he resented the situation, he bestknew. But it is possible that two of the others had some inkling ofthe cause.

  When he had gone, "There's an old woman for you!" Arthur exclaimed. "Iwonder that you had the patience to listen to him, sir."

  But Ovington shook his head. "I listened because there are times whena straw shows which way the wind blows."

  "But you don't think that there is anything in what he said?"

  "I shall remember what he said. The time may be coming to take insail--to keep a good look-out, lad, and be careful. You have been withus--how long? Two years. Ay, but years of expansion, of rising prices,of growing trade. But I have seen other times--other times." He shookhis head.

  "Still, there is no sign of a change, sir?"

  "You've seen one to-day. What is in Rodd's head may be in others, andwhat is in men's heads soon reflects itself in their conduct."

  It was the first word, the first hint, the first presage of evil; of afall, of bad weather, of a storm, distant as yet, and seen even by theclearest eyes only as a cloud no bigger than a man's hand. But theword had been spoken. The hint had been given. And to Arthur, who hadpaid a high price for prosperity--how high only he could say--thepresage seemed an outrage. The idea that the prosperity he had boughtwas not a certainty, that the craft on which he had embarked hisfortune was, like other ships, at the mercy of storm and tempest, thatlike other ships it might founder with all its freight, was entirelynew to him. So new that for a moment his face betrayed the impressionit made. Then he told himself that the thing was incredible, that hestarted at shadows, and his natural confidence rebounded. "Oh, damnRodd!" he cried--and he said it with all his heart. "He's a croaker bynature!"

  "Still, we won't damn him," the banker answered mildly. "On thecontrary, we will profit by his warning. But go now. I have a letterto write. And do you go, too, Betty, and make tea for us."

  He turned to his papers, and Arthur, after a moment's hesitation,followed Betty into the house. Overtaking her in the hall, "Betty,what is the matter?" he asked. And when the girl took no notice, butwent on with her chin in the air as if he had not spoken, he seizedher arm. "Come," he said, "I am not going to have this. What is it?"

  "What should it be! I don't know what you mean," she retorted.

  "Oh yes, you do. What took you--to back up that ass in the bank justnow?"

  Then Betty astonished him. "I didn't think he wanted any backing," shesaid, her eyes bright. "He seemed to me to talk sense, and someoneelse nonsense."

  "But you're not----"

  "A partner in Ovington's? No, Mr. Bourdillon, I am not--thank heaven!And so my head is not turned, and I can keep my temper and mind mymanners."

  "Oh, it's Mr. Bourdillon now, is it?"

  "Yes--if you are going to behave to my friends as you did thisafternoon."

  "Your friends!" scornfully. "You include Rodd, do you? Rodd, Betty?"

  "Yes, I do, and I am not too proud to do so. Nor too proud to be angrywhen I see a man ten years younger than he is slap him in the face! Iam not so spoiled that I think everyone beneath me!"

  "So it's Rodd now?"

  "It's as much Rodd now," her cheeks hot, her eyes sparkling, "as itwas anyone else before! Just as much and just as little. You flatteryourself, sir!"

  "But, Betty," in a coaxing tone, "little spitfire that you are, can'tyou guess why I was short with Rodd? Can't you guess why I don'tparticularly love him? But you do guess. Rodd is what he is--nothing!But when he lifts his eyes above him--when he dares to make eyes atyou--I am not going to be silent."

  "Now you are impertinent!" she replied. "As impertinent as you weremean before. Yes, mean, mean! When you knew he could not answer you!Mean!"

  And without waiting for a reply she ran up the stairs.

  He went to one of the windows of the dining-room and looked acrossBride Hill and along the High Street, full at that hour of marketpeople. But he did not see them, his thoughts were busy with what hadhappened. He could not believe that Betty had any feeling for Rodd.The man was dull, commonplace, a plodder, and not young; he was wellover thirty. No, the idea was preposterous. And it was still moreabsurd to suppose that if he, Arthur, threw the handkerchief--or evenfluttered it in her direction, for dear little thing as she was, hehad not quite made up his mind--she would hesitate to accept him, orwould let any thought of Rodd weigh with her.

  Still, he would let her temper cool, he would not stay to tea.Instead, he would by and by ride his new horse out to the Cottage. Hehad not been home for the weekend. He had left Mrs. Bourdillon to cometo herself and recover her good humor in solitude. Now he would makeit up with her, and while he was there he might as well get a peep atJosina--it was a long time since he had seen her. If Betty chose toadopt this unpleasant line, why, she could not blame him if he amusedhimself.