He thrust out a supplicating hand: "Give us time--just a little time--that's all I ask! We'll tide over somehow if you'll--"
Kate interrupted bitterly: "There's a familiar ring to that. My own words exactly, if you will recollect--and you sneered in my face." She looked at him with narrowed eyes and her voice was flint: "The time you'll get is the time it will require for me to go before a notary and swear that your bank is insolvent--twenty minutes--a half hour at most."
"For God's sake--" His face was chalky when he sprang out of his chair as though to stop her forcibly when she laid her hand upon the gate. "Isn't there some other way--some concession that we can make?"
Wentz did not breathe, in the tense moment that she seemed to hesitate.
"Yes," she flashed, "there is one way to save your bank; turn over to me your and Neifkins' stock, which will give me the control."
Wentz stood mute.
She demanded imperiously: "Yes or no?"
"You--you would retain me as president?" he asked, heavily.
Her answer came with the decisive snap of a rapid fire gun.
"Certainly not. You demonstrated your unfitness to occupy a position of such responsibility when you allowed yourself to be influenced by a man of Neifkins' stripe, to say nothing of the lack of knowledge of human nature which you have shown in your dealings with me.
"The man who enabled me to block your game when you thought you had me down and out--not through any particular kindness of heart or chivalry, but because he had the gift of insight into character--the discernment to recognize a safe loan--will take your place. Abram Pantin, if he wants it, will be this bank's next president."
Wentz looked his amazement.
So that was the source from which her money had come! The bank's ancient enemy had taken what any other man in Prouty would have considered an extremely long chance. Wentz never had blamed himself, but this news made him wince. Pantin--the fox--rather anyone else! A rebellious expression came over the man's face. With Abram Pantin in his chair his humiliation would be complete.
"I won't do it!" he blurted.
"Then you'll suspend. I don't bluff. There isn't a plea you can make, or a single argument, that will have any weight. There's but this one way to save your reputation and your bank. Do you quite realize what failure means, coming at this time? It means the finishing touch to a nearly bankrupt town. It means that the temper of your depositors will be such that you're liable to be lynched, when they learn that you might have kept the bank open and did not. Think twice, Mr. Wentz."