The Bransford Morning Herald contained no account of the meeting at the Fourth Avenue Church. News of the rebuff as administered to the better element by a rank outsider was slow in gaining circulation. But the incident was not wholly suppressed. Judge Parker, who had been present, chuckled the incident to a few friends; Holstroff, the merchant, recited the details to a few customers as they discussed the probable outcome of the state elections now being held; and Joe Dansford, the church janitor, told the incident of how the meeting ended in a general row, without the formality of a motion to adjourn. Lacking a correct account, the general public of the little city elaborated the story to include fisticuffs and swear words.

Carson Wells, of the Wells National, heard the story and was much concerned. It affected his leading customer. Just now, banks were closing in increasing numbers, local factories were shut down, retailing limited to bare necessities, and only one concern in the community earned money. Carson, as well as the managers of the Model Trucking Company, realized that in the event of the repeal of the amendment, ruin was inevitable. It was Carson’s problem to stop such publicity. Shirley must be silenced. He was found at the public library and was invited to come to the bank after three o’clock.

“That vindictive speech you made at the church meeting is proving very costly,” said Carson as the brothers seated themselves in the little consultation room in the rear of the bank. “It affects your own personal affairs, and seeks to wreck the only concern in the city that is functioning and making money. Your interest in this bank demands a retraction of what you said at that meeting.”

“Why, I didn’t know I had an interest in this bank,” said Shirley in even tones. “In the years past, I have been shunted around from pillar to post, living on the few small fees received from receiverships and bankruptcy petitions. And I didn’t think that I had banking interests. I certainly am an object of personal negligence, but hereafter the matter will have my attention.”

Carson was nonplused at both the answer and attitude. He had planned his remarks, however, and he proceeded along prepared lines.

“Your remarks at that meeting were uncalled for. Your insistence created enemies. No one at the meeting was in favor of repealing the amendment and restoring the unwanted saloon. Yours was the attitude of the drinking ne’er-do-wells of the underworld. Two of those present at that meeting have withdrawn their account, others will do the same. You were simply undermining your own foundations.”

“And just what sort of a structure stands on my foundations?” drawled Shirley. “I am a sort of a misfit in the community structure. I do not live in my family home, am not employed in my family bank, was moved away from my family’s farm, have never been consulted on business or social affairs since my parents died. Really, I have no foundations that could be undermined.”

Carson’s face reddened as he listened to the truth. He walked to the water-cooler, took a drink, and returned to his seat. “In some things you are right,” he confessed. “When you came home from France, I hoped you would seek a professional career would turn to politics and make a name for yourself and the family. It seemed my business to work hard and aid in building that career, but you didn’t go the way I hoped.”

“Just what aid did you render in building such a career? It takes money to acquire a profession. How much did you contribute?”

Again Carson was unable to make a specific answer to the cutting, personal questions. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t make any contributions. I wasn’t asked. I was....”

“Do you have to ask for your own property, in this day and age?” demanded Shirley. “When Father died, I was an heir to one half of what he possessed: home, farm, bank, bonds, and money on hand. Very properly, in the absence of the other heir, you took charge of the property and managed the business. But on the return of the other heir you made no accounting. In fact, you resented his interest in anything connected with the business.”

“When you returned from the war,” said Carson, “we were approaching a depression that grew to disastrous proportions. Banks are the first to feel such a calamity. My whole time has been devoted to curtailment to restricting loans and seeking deposits. Truly, we haven’t earned a cent since the war ended.”

“So that’s the reason you bought the fancy, high-priced limousine and gave several parties at the country club! That’s the reason why you maintain those luxurious quarters in Chicago! You were wanting to show the public that....”

“Never mind what I was doing,” interrupted Carson angrily. “It’s what you have done that is the matter under discussion, and we are getting nowhere. We might as well adjourn.”

“Not yet,” demanded Shirley hastily. “Keep your seat. The show has now reached the second act. Let’s sit it out.” It was Shirley who stood up as Carson resumed his seat.

“Our family was always reticent. We avoided publicity; didn’t want Mister John Q. to know about our affairs. You surely remember how reluctant our father was when it was found that his private bank must be nationalized. One little share was issued to Aunt Carrie, one to John Powell, his old, trusted employee, and he held the rest. He didn’t want the public to know about his private affairs.

“I think I inherited most of his secretive qualities,” Shirley continued. “I listened to a lot of rumors and then I began to investigate. My findings lead to but one conclusion: you allied yourself with gangsters in the hope of participating in their enormous gains only to find that you are the biggest sucker on their list.”

“I didn’t favor anybody,” said Carson hotly. “Our relations were simply that of banker and customer.”

“And to maintain cordial relations you deeded to them a fine but isolated farm where, uninterrupted, they could produce ‘rotgut’ to supply the entire Chicago area. Have you been out there lately? Father used to call it Forest Home. The Hereford cattle that he reared topped the market. It’s different now. The gates are locked. A thug stands out in the roadway to divert traffic. In the night, truckloads of corn and coal arrive to produce the ‘hell-fire’ that is bottled, labeled, and distributed over the district.”

In the midst of this recital Carson dropped his head down on his arms, folded on the table.

“I don’t know a thing about the conditions here at the bank,” Shirley continued in softer tones, “but there are public records that tell an incriminating story. The records at the courthouse show a mortgage to the Reliable Insurance Company on our home here in the city. My signature on such a mortgage was forged. I didn’t know about this until I was forced into this investigation. You, and your bank, must have needed money very badly and you committed forgery to get it. Based on this fact alone, one has a right to believe that you are fooling the busy bank examiners with forged securities. It’s just a question as to what hour you will be uncovered and convicted.”

Carson still reclined his head on folded arms. Shirley was preparing to leave. “We are broke, Carson. I haven’t a dime and you have less. But I am not going to stay in Bransford and be a party to your downfall. My word alone would prove your guilt. I don’t know where I am going, but I intend hiding out until this thing blows over. But before I go, Carson, I want an interview with your criminal friends to tell ’em what a set of dirty, crooks they are.”

Late in the afternoon, as Shirley was busy in clearing his desk of unneeded papers, his friend Townsend dropped in to confer on some pending matters.

“I am sorry, Fred, to tell you I am leaving,” said Shirley as he closed the desk. “I don’t know where I am going and I don’t want the public to know where I am located. If you have the time, I would like to tell you the cause of it all and put you wise to some incidents that seem sure to happen.”

“I think you are going to confirm some suspicions I had formed in connection with the Larwell estate. The account at the Wells Bank didn’t conform to the little credit slips as issued.”

“You are on the right road, oldtimer,” said Shirley, and he proceeded to relate what was said in his recent conference with Carson. He cited the incident of the forged deed and detailed conditions at the farm. “The Wells National is not only broke,” he added, “but Carson is involved in several criminal activities. I don’t want to be present when the crash comes; I don’t want my evidence to convict him. I am going to hide out where a summons-server cannot find me.”

“Maybe you are right,” said Townsend thoughtfully, “but there are some things you should do before you leave. The crash will come, no doubt; Carson’s share of the estate will be charged with his criminal actions; yours is not involved. Before you go, you should give to someone a full power of attorney to take care of your interests. In the midst of juggled accounts and forgeries, there may be something left, and anyhow, the receivership cannot be closed without your consent.”

“You are right, as always, Fred, and you are the very person to have that power. Let’s get it done right away. I have another thing on hand that must be taken care of after supper.”

“When are you leaving, and have you enough money to get you out of town?” asked Townsend as the two returned from across the hall where the instrument had been notarized.

“I think I will leave tonight. The bubble may not burst for a while. I want the public to become accustomed to my absence. As for money, when I pay for my supper, I may have as much as forty cents left.”

“You are braver than I thought and as stubborn as I suspected,” said Townsend as he searched his pocketbook. “Here’s a twenty. That may get you across the river and on your way. You will make your way all right, but if your case becomes desperate draw on me under the name A.Z., and I will understand. Your financial affairs are in desperate condition but the case is not hopeless. You are young and healthy but you lack a definite plan of life. If someone will throw you a line while you are floundering in this slough you will come out all right. Now what’s this thing you are to do after the evening meal?”

“I’ve made a phone date to tell Anzio and his set of crooks what a rotten set of gangsters they are. It won’t take me long to tell ’em and then I am ready to leave.”

“You might not be able to make a get-away from those mobsters. Taking an enemy for a final ‘ride’ is one of their favorite pastimes. And anyhow, you can’t tell ’em anything that they don’t already know. You have no right to do such an uncalled for thing.”

“Oh, yes I have,” said Shirley as he took his hat preparing to leave. “My visit might precipitate an incident. Anyhow, I’m on my way.”

Shirley left the office. Townsend went to the telephone in the front room.