"No matter how it happened," said the old merchant. "Are we insured to the full; that is the first question?" "To the last shilling." "Well done, Arthur." "But still it is most unlucky. Some weeks must elapse before the insurances can be realized, and a portion of the gold was paid for in bills at short date." "The rest in cash?" "Cash and merchandise." "Then there is the proper margin. Draw on my private account, at the Bank of England." These few simple words showed the struggling young merchant a way out of all his difficulties. His heart leaped so, he dared not reply, lest he should excite the old gentleman's suspicions. But ere he could well draw his breath for joy, came a freezer. "Mr. Burtenshaw, sir." "Bid him wait," said Arthur, aloud, and cast a look of great anxiety on Penfold, which the poor old man, with all his simplicity, comprehended well enough. "Burtenshaw, from Morland's. What does he want of us?" said Wardlaw senior, knitting his brows. Arthur turned cold all over. "Perhaps to ask me not to draw out my balance. It is less than usual; but they are run upon; and, as you are good enough to let me draw on you-- By the by, perhaps you will sign a check before you go to the station." "How much do you want?" "I really don't know, till I have consulted Penfold. The gold was a large and advantageous purchase, sir." "No doubt; no doubt. I'll give you my signature, and you can fill in the amount." He drew a check in favor of Arthur Wardlaw, signed it, and left him to fill in the figures. He then looked at his watch, and remarked they would barely have time to get to the station. "Good heavens!" cried Arthur; "and I can't go. I must learn the particulars of the loss of the _Proserpine,_ and prepare the statement at once for the underwriters." "Well, never mind. _I_ can go." "But what will she think of me? I ought to be the first to welcome her." "I'll make your excuses." "No, no; say nothing. After all, it was you who received the telegram, so you naturally meet her; but you will bring her here, father. You won't whisk my darling down to Elmtrees till you have blessed me with the sight of her." "I will not be so cruel, fond lover," said old Wardlaw, laughing, and took up his hat and gloves to go. Arthur went to the door with him in great anxiety, lest he should question Burtenshaw. But, peering into the outer office, he observed Burtenshaw was not there. Michael had caught his employer's anxious look and conveyed the banker into the small room where the short-hand writer was at work. But Burtenshaw was one of a struggling firm; to him every minute was an hour. He had sat, fuming with impatience, so long as he heard talking in the inner office; and, the moment it ceased, he took the liberty of coming in; so that he opened the side door just as Wardlaw senior was passing through the center door. Instantly Wardlaw junior whipped before him, to hide his figure from his retreating father.