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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Deluge"

"
So it was out! "Some truth," I admitted, since denial would have been
useless here. "And I've come to you for the money to tide me over."
He grew white, a sickly white, and into his eyes came a horrible, drowning
look.
"I owe a lot to you, Matt," he pleaded. "But I've done you a great many
favors, haven't I?"
"That you have Bob," I cordially agreed. "But this isn't a favor. It's
business."
"You mustn't ask it, Blacklock," he cried. "I've loaned you more money now
than the law allows. And I can't let you have any more."
"Some one has been lying to you, and you've been believing him," said I.
"When I say my request isn't a favor, but business, I mean it."
"I can't let you have any more," he repeated. "I can't!" And down came his
fist in a weak-violent gesture.
I leaned forward and laid my hand strongly on his arm.
"In addition to the stock of this concern that I hold in my own name," said
I, "I hold five shares in the name of a man whom nobody knows that I even
know. If you don't let me have the money, that man goes to the district
attorney with information that lands you in the penitentiary, that puts
your company out of business and into bankruptcy before to-morrow noon.


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