“No,” said someone. Then there was a long silence. Mr. Livingstone spoke again. “Charles Townley was the oldest member of this club. And I am the next; and was his oldest friend. And Charles Townley is a scoundrel.” The old man rose; and the younger men thought he was going out, and made way for him at the door. But he walked over to the printed list of members that was opposite him upon the wall. “Charles Townley--1839,” he muttered, as he found the place; and taking a pen that lay on the table beneath, he filled it with ink, and drew it, with a trembling hand, heavily across the name. Then he turned, and went to the door; while the younger men sat silent. There he stopped a moment. “We are gentlemen in this club. That is all.” And they heard his uncertain step across the hall. All the men sat and looked at one another; but no one cared to speak. After some minutes a group gathered around Gower, and conversed in undertones. “It was the only thing to do,” said one. “He will never come here to see.” “We could not have expelled the poor old gentleman,” said Van Kull. “But is it really as bad as he says?” “I have no doubt of it. Tamms has made a clean sweep. And the old gentleman must have given him access to his own trusts.” “Poor old fellow! But what will Charlie do?” “Oh, Charlie will fall on his legs. Wasn’t it plucky, the way he faced the market yesterday?” “Damn Remington!” “You forget he is my partner,” said Beverly White. “Then damn you, too,” said Van Kull cavalierly. “But poor old Townley! I’m sorry----” The speaker stopped, conscious of a sudden chill. For there was an opening in the crowd, and there stood Mr. Townley close behind him. “Well, boys--bad times in the street, eh?” The old man’s voice piped a shrill treble, and there was something almost childish in his laugh. “Ah, the house of Charles Townley & Son has seen worse times than this. I remember when my father--in thirty-nine----” There was dead silence in the room. Gower went up and tried to lead the old man away from the group of strangers. “Ah, Gower, glad to see you----I’ve found a picture I think you’d like--you must come around to my house this evening--that is, if you’ve nothing else to do better than smoking with an old fellow like me. Eh! you young dogs! you young dogs! But why are you all so glum, my boys? Ah, you young fellows take things too earnest, nowadays.” “There’s been a bad day in the stock-market,” said Beverly White. “I hope, sir, the reports of Mr. Tamms’s doings have been exaggerated?” (“Shut up, confound you,” whispered Van Kull; but the other answered him with an ugly leer.)