With his co-operation he might carry out a plan which had been maturing some months in his brain.
It was a hard task for the proud and austere merchant to be compelled to confess to his son that he had speculated without his knowledge in the capital of the company, and that a large part of that capital had disappeared.

These speculations in many instances had promised large returns, and John Girdlestone had withdrawn money from safer concerns, and reinvested it in the hope of getting a higher rate of interest.
He had done this with his eyes open to the risk, and knowing that his son was of too practical and cautious a nature to embark in such commercial gambling, he had never consulted him upon the point, nor had he made any entry of the money so invested in the accounts of the firm.
Hence Ezra was entirely ignorant of the danger which hung over them, and his father saw that, in order to secure his energetic assistance in the stroke which he was contemplating, it was absolutely necessary that he should know how critical their position was.
The old man had hardly come to this conclusion when he heard the sharp footfall of his son in the outer office and the harsh tones of his voice as he addressed the clerks.

A moment or two later the green baize door flew open, and the young man came in, throwing his hat and coat down on one of the chairs.

It was evident that something had ruffled his temper.
"Good-morning," he said brusquely, nodding his head to his father.
"Good-morning, Ezra," the merchant answered meekly.
"What's the matter with you, father ?" his son asked, looking at him keenly.

"You don't look yourself, and haven't for some time back." "Business worries, my boy, business worries," John Girdlestone answered wearily.
"It's the infernal atmosphere of this place," Ezra said impatiently.
"I feel it myself sometimes.