Mr. Wade paused and jerked the ash from his cigar. He glanced at Cornish.
“No one suspected that there was anything wrong. It was plausibly put forth, and Ferriby ... did his best for it. Then the money began to come in, and once money begins to come in for a popular charity the difficulty is to stop it. I suppose it is still coming in?”
“Yes,” said Cornish. “It is still coming in, and nobody is trying to stop it.”
Mr. Wade laughed in his throat, as fat men do. “And,” he cried, sitting upright and banging his heavy fist down on the arm of his chair--“and there are millions in your malgamite works at the Hague--millions. If it were only honest it would be the finest monopoly the world has ever seen--for two years, but no longer. At the end of that period the paper-makers will have had time to combine and make their own stuff--then they'll smash you. But during those two years all the makers in the world will have to buy your malgamite at the price you chose to put upon it. They have their forward contracts to fulfil--government contracts, Indian contracts, newspaper contracts. Thousands and thousands of tons of paper will have to be manufactured at a loss every week during the next two years, or they'll have to shut up their mills. Now do you see where you are?”
“Yes,” answered Cornish, “I see where I am, now.”
His face was drawn and his eyes hard, like those of a man facing ruin. And that which was written on his face was an old story, so old that some may not think it worth the telling; for he had found out (as all who are fortunate will, sooner or later, discover) that success or failure, riches or poverty, greatness or obscurity, are but small things in a man's life. Mr. Wade looked at his companion with a sort of wonder in his shrewd old face. He had seen ruined men before now--he had seen criminals convicted of their wrong-doing--he had seen old and young in adversity, and, what is more dangerous still, in prosperity--but he had never seen a young face grow old in the twinkling of an eye. The banker was only thinking of this matter as a financial crisis, in which his great skill made him take a master's delight. There must inevitably come a great crash, and Mr. Wade's interest was aroused. Cornish was realizing that the crash would of a certainty fall between himself and Dorothy.