Two parties were gradually formed; one in favour of sending out an agent forthwith, and the other decided in their purpose not to risk another dollar until more certain information was received. This was the aspect of affairs when the Board adjourned to meet again on the next evening.
The result of this conference tended in no degree to calm the fears of Mr. Markland. How gladly would he now give up all interest in the splendid enterprise which had so captivated his imagination, if he could do so at the expense of one-half of his fortune!
“If I could save only a small part of the wreck!” he said to himself, as he paced the floor of his room at the hotel. It was far past the hour of midnight, but no sleep weighed upon his eyelids. “Even sufficient,” he added, in a sad voice, “to keep in possession our beautiful home. As for myself, I can go back into busy life again. I am yet in the prime of manhood, and can tread safely and successfully the old and yet unforgotten ways to prosperity. Toil will be nothing to me, so the home-nest remain undisturbed, and my beloved ones suffer not through my blindness and folly.”
A new thought came into his mind. His investments in the enterprise, now in such jeopardy, reached the sum of nearly one hundred thousand dollars. The greater part of this had been actually paid in. His notes and endorsements made up the balance.
“I will sell out for twenty-five cents in the dollar,” said he.
There was a feeble ray of light in his mind, as the thought of selling out his entire interest in the business, at a most desperate sacrifice, grew more and more distinct. One or two members of the Board of Direction had, during the evening’s discussion, expressed strong doubts as to the truth of the charge brought against Mr. Lyon. The flooding of the shaft was not, they thought, unlikely, and it might, seriously delay operations; but they were unwilling to believe affairs to be in the hopeless condition some were disposed to think. Here was a straw at which the drowning man caught. He would call upon one of these individuals in the morning, and offer his whole interest at a tempting reduction. Relieved at this thought, Mr. Markland could retire for the night; and he even slept soundly. On awaking in the morning, the conclusion of the previous night was reviewed. There were some natural regrets at the thought of giving up, by a single act, three-fourths of his whole fortune; but, like the mariner whose ship was sinking, there was no time to hesitate on the question of sacrificing the rich cargo.
“Yes—yes,” he said within himself, “I will be content with certainty. Suspense like the present is not to be endured.”
And so he made preparations to call upon a certain broker in Wall street, who had expressed most confidence in Lyon, and offer to sell him out his whole interest. He had taken breakfast, and was about leaving the hotel, when, in passing the reading-room, it occurred to him to glance over the morning papers. So he stepped in for that purpose.
Almost the first thing that arrested his attention was the announcement of an arrival, and news from Central America. “BURSTING OF A MAGNIFICENT BUBBLE—FLIGHT OF A DEFAULTING AGENT.”—were the next words that startled him. He read on:
“The Government of—has seized upon all that immense tract of land, reported to be so rich in mineral wealth, which was granted some two years ago to the—Company. A confidential agent of this company, to whom, it is reported, immense sums of money were intrusted, and who failed to pay over the amounts due on the purchase, has disappeared, and, it is thought, passed over to the Pacific. He is believed to have defrauded the company out of nearly half a million of dollars.”
“So dies a splendid scheme,” was the editorial remark in the New York paper. “Certain parties in this city are largely interested in the Company, and have made investments of several hundred thousand dollars. More than one of these, it is thought, will be ruined by the catastrophe. Another lesson to the too eager and over-credulous money-seeker! They will not receive a very large share of public sympathy.”
Mr. Markland read to the end, and then staggered back into a chair, where he remained for many minutes, before he had the will or strength to rise. He then went forth hastily, and repaired to the office of Mr. Fenwick. Several members of the Company, who had seen the announcement in the morning papers, were there, some pale with consternation, and some strongly excited. The agent had not yet arrived. The clerk in the office could answer no questions satisfactorily. He had not seen Mr. Fenwick since the evening previous.
“Have his letters yet arrived?” was inquired by one.
“He always takes them from the post-office himself,” answered the clerk.
“What is his usual hour for coming to his office in the morning?”
“He is generally here by this time—often much earlier.”
These interrogations, addressed to the clerk by one of those present, excited doubts and questions in the minds of others.
“It is rather singular that he should be absent at this particular time,” said Markland, giving indirect expression to his own intruding suspicions.
“It is very singular,” said another. “He is the medium of information from the theatre of our operations, and, above all things, should not be out of the way now.”
“Where does he live?” was inquired of the clerk.
“At No.—, Fourteenth street.”
“Will you get into a stage and ride up there?”
“If you desire it, gentlemen,” replied the young man; “though it is hardly probable that I will find him there at this hour. If you wait a little while longer, he will no doubt be in.”
The door opened, and two more of the parties interested in this bursting bubble arrived.
“Where is Fenwick?” was eagerly asked.
“Not to be found,” answered one, abruptly, and with a broader meaning in his tones than any words had yet expressed.
“He hasn’t disappeared, also!”
Fearful eyes looked into blank faces at this exclamation.
“Gentlemen,” said the clerk, with considerable firmness of manner, “language like this must not be used here.
