Stephen Langdon was seated at one end of the table, Roderick Duncan was at the opposite one. Melvin, the lawyer, was behind it. Duncan had just related the story he had overheard told by Radnor, and he had brought his recital to a close by making a remarkable statement, which had brought at least one of his hearers to a mental stand-still.
"I am a party to an agreement which was signed, sealed and delivered, in this office, Mr. Langdon," he said. "You are also a party to that document. Your daughter also signed it. By the terms of that document, Patricia Langdon became my promised wife. Under the terms recited in that document, she named a day when we were to be married. That day has come and gone, and I have received no word of any kind from her. I am convinced that you, her father, know where she is, where she can be found, and now I demand of you that information, in order that I may seek her. It is my wish to know from her own lips if she repudiates that contract, or if it is still her intention to live up to it. I have asked you, in Mr. Melvin's presence, twice, to give me the information I wish for. I have asked you once on the ground of our mutual friendship: you declined to answer. I have asked you, the second time, on the ground of love and affection, for you and for your daughter: you have refused. I ask you now on the ground of a commercial transaction, just as Miss Langdon insisted upon viewing it, and with all personal considerations put aside. If you again decline my request, I give you warning that I shall make a call upon you within an hour, for the loan I have advanced. I have that right, under the terms of the agreement, and I shall take advantage of it. That is all I have to say. It is my last word."
Stephen Langdon left his chair. His face was cold, stern, expressionless. It wore the mask which long years in "the street," had given it. He did not look toward Duncan, but turned his face to the lawyer, and said, with cold preciseness: "Mr. Melvin, you may say for me, to all who may be concerned, that I shall be prepared within an hour to meet all demands that may be made upon me."
With a slight inclination of his head, he left the office of the lawyer. He walked as erect as ever; he carried himself no less proudly, although he knew that he was going to his financial ruin unless the unexpected should happen. Twenty millions is a large sum to pay at an hour's notice. It was not a tithe of the fortune which Stephen Langdon was supposed to possess; yet his circumstances at the moment were such that terrible disaster would immediately follow upon the demand for its payment. He knew it; Melvin knew it; Roderick Duncan knew it. But the fighting blood of Roderick Duncan's father was surging in his son's soul, just then; and, in his day, "Old Man Duncan" had been a harder and a more relentless financier than ever his partner, Stephen Langdon, had become.