The first brick in Ysleta's speculative row had toppled against its
fellow and the whole line was threatened with collapse. Some worthless
speculator had begun it by trying to "cash in." The news had spread like
wild-fire that the Pacific was to be the first point of attack. There
was no time for aid to reach it from the San Francisco banks, even had
they been disposed to tender assistance. As for the local banks, they
were too busy furling their own sails for the coming storm, to think of
going to the rescue of the storm's first victim.
Early as was the hour, the sharp-lined figures of the depositors jammed
against the closed doors of the bank and faded to dim shadows at the far
end of the line. Men, who a few hours before had bowed with deference to
their fellow men, were now like savage tigers, holding their places with
tooth and claw bared for immediate and merciless action. Woe to the
luckless one who in the jam, was crowded from his position. There was no
hope for him but in the far distance where men were shadows. No word was
spoken. There was no need of words where moonlight gleamed coldly on
shining steel. A hand to hand fight meant the end of the line for the
defender as well as the one who attacked.
Only one thing could have broken the solid ranks. Could any one in that
fierce array of self-seekers have seen a man slink from a half-opened
window in the rear of the bank, creep from shadow to shadow in the
direction of the Rio Vista, and finally disappear within a secluded
arbor, a timid fox in a pack of ravening hounds would have had a better
chance of life than he.
Pale as the moonlight that lay soft and white about him, Elijah stood,
awaiting Mellin.
"I have decided that I cannot take the money."
"What the devil are you here for then?"
"To tell that I will take chances with the rest."
"The devil you will." Mellin's voice showed the contemptuous scorn he
felt; but Elijah's course was not new to him. His experience in life had
taught him that in business the saint and the sinner stand on the same
plane. He had noted that the sinner did without a qualm that which the
saint did with moaning and tears. The result was the same in either
case.
"I suppose you know that we are carrying five hundred thousand in
deposits. We have one hundred thousand with which to meet the run."
"But the receivership that will follow?"
Mellin laughed.
"You are not so innocent as all that. You know our line of business.
Real estate loans!" Mellin indulged in a sarcastic smile. "Two millions
hard cash and five millions of Ysleta lots that aren't worth record."
"We took our chances with the other depositors and we will stay with
them." Elijah's words were firm, but his voice gave them the lie.
Mellin was very patient. It never occurred to Elijah to ask why. Mellin
was worldly wise; Elijah was not. Therefore Elijah never asked the
question, "What does the other man want me to do for him when he is so
anxious to do something for me?"
Mellin was worldly wise. He had read Elijah aright. Elijah was open to
conviction as to what was right and what was wrong. His well-known
professions only strengthened Mellin in his belief that Elijah relied
upon others for guidance more than upon himself. So he made answer:
"You are not on the same footing as the other depositors. I am cashier.
Yesterday morning I got a tip that there would be a run on the bank and
I passed it on to you. It's no one's business that you had a friend on
the inside. You were out of town and I sent a messenger after you. After
sending him, things thickened. I saw that you wouldn't get back in time,
so I drew for you. Here's the stuff." Mellin held out a compact bundle
carefully wrapped and tied. Elijah's hand closed upon it. He moistened
his dry lips as the package rested in his hand and was transferred to
his pocket. Without a word he turned toward the hotel. The parting of
the ways was behind him and he was on the wrong path. The return was not
irrevocably barred; but,--would he return?