Jason was afraid. Jason--even though he
knew so little of the truth--was afraid. Well, what then? He, Jimmie
Dale, was not blind himself! It had come almost to the point where his
back was against the wall at last; to the point where, unless he found
the Tocsin before many more days went by, it would be, as far as he was
concerned--too late!
And then he shrugged his shoulders suddenly--and his forehead knitted
into perplexed furrows. Forrester--and the telephone message! What did
it mean? There was an ugly sound to it, that reference to the bank
examiners and the need of financial assistance. And it was a little odd,
too, that Forrester should have telephoned him, Jimmie Dale, unless it
were accounted for by the fact that Forrester knew of no one else to
whom he might apply for perhaps a large sum, of ready money. True, he
knew Forrester quite well--not as an intimate friend--but only in a sort
of casual, off-hand kind of a way, as it were, and he had known him for
a good many years; but their acquaintanceship would not warrant the
other's action unless the man were in desperate straits. Forrester had
been a clerk in the city bank where his, Jimmie Dale's, father had
transacted his business, and it was there he had first met Forrester.
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