Ovington's Bank by Stanley J. Weyman — Read

The money for Arthur's share in the bank had been paid over in the early part of June, but the transaction had not gone through with the smoothness which he had anticipated. He had found himself up against a thing which he had not taken into his reckoning; the jealousy with which the old and the rich are apt to guard the secret of their wealth, a jealousy in the Squire's case aggravated by his blindness. Arthur had felt the check and was forced to own, with some alarm, that high as he stood in favor, a little thing might upset him.

He had written to the brokers, requesting them to sell sufficient India Stock to bring in a sum of six thousand pounds. They had replied that they could not carry out the order unless they had the particulars of the Stock and of the amount standing in the Squire's name at the India House. But when Arthur took the letter to the Squire's room and read it to him, the outcome surprised him. The old man sat up in bed and confounded him by the vigor of his answer. "Want to know how much I hold? " he cried. "D-n their impudence! Then they'll not know! Want to look at my books and see what I'm worth! What next? What is it to them what I hold? You bid 'em sell-" beating the counterpane with his stick-"you bid 'em sell two thousand two hundred pounds-at two hundred and seventy-five, that's near the mark! That's all they've got to do, the impudent puppies! Do you write, d'you hear, and tell 'em to do it!"