As the year advanced, instead of bettering themselves things grew steadily worse. Acting on the advice of his wife and Murkard, he had curtailed expenses in every direction, forced himself to do without many things that at other times would have been classed as absolute necessaries, and discharged as many hands as could possibly be spared. This lightened the load for a while; but it soon became painfully evident that, unless more capital was soon forthcoming, the pearling station must inevitably close its doors. But in what direction could they look for such assistance? The banks were already dropping hints as to long-standing overdrafts, and, seeing the losses they were daily sustaining, it would be impossible to expect any mercy from them. On all sides companies were abandoning stations, or transferring their business elsewhere. It was a time of serious financial danger, and night and day Ellison worried himself to know how it was all to end. It was not for himself he cared; it was for Esther--only for Esther. Indeed, the anxiety was telling seriously upon his health. He could not sleep for its weight upon his mind. If only he could raise a couple of thousand pounds, he continually argued, he might place the station in a position by which it might not only weather the storm, but enable it to do even a larger business than before when the reaction set in. Again and again he discussed the matter with his wife and Murkard, but without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.
One night after dinner, just as he was going out to the veranda for his customary smoke, Murkard called him outside.
"Come over to the store with me for a little while," he said. "I want a serious conversation with you."
Ellison followed him into the hut, and shut the door.
"Look here," said the smaller man, perching himself on the high stool behind his desk, and taking a letter from a pigeon-hole above him, "things have come to a climax. But there, you know that perhaps even better than I do."
"God help us! I think I do, and the anxiety is almost killing me. What we are to do I can't for the life of me see."
"There is a lot of bills coming due next month, and we've got an even smaller return for that last shell than I expected. To cap it all, here's a letter from the bank over the way. It came before dinner, but you looked so precious miserable then that I thought I'd keep it till after you'd had your meal. It's a facer, and no mistake."
