"Well, last night," said Will, "I knocked a man down with my left arm, and very likely I instinctively twitched up the right to guard myself." "These are little amusements which a man in your condition had better forego," said the other, quietly. "The best thing you can do is go home and get to bed, give your arm perfect rest, and I will call in the afternoon and see what is to be done." "I can’t do that," said Will, "I’m going down to the country." "You will do so at your peril." "All the same, I must go. Nothing is likely to happen between to-day and Monday. If you had seen the leg I had in Turkey!—without any doctor but a servant who could not even infuse our tea—constant rain—walking every day—our tent letting in water at night——" "I don’t know about your leg in Turkey," said the doctor, tartly; "but I see the condition in which your arm is now. If you think it will get well by exposing it to rain, well and good——" "Can you do anything to it _now_?" "No, unless you give the limb perfect rest." "Very well. If it gets very bad, I shall come up to town to-morrow. If not, I shall visit you on Monday, and do everything you tell me then." He got into a cab and drove back to his chambers. The man had already taken his portmanteau downstairs, when Count Schönstein’s brougham drove up, and the Count jumped out. "Where are you going?" "To St. Mary-Kirby." "Not now. Come inside; I have something to tell you." They stepped inside: never before had Will observed the Count to be so disturbed. "Miall & Welling," he said, hurriedly, "I have just heard—not ten minutes ago—have collapsed—the announcement will be made to-day—the directors were in the place till twelve last night. It will be the most fearful crash, they say; for the bank has lately been making the wildest efforts to save itself——" "I thought Miall & Welling’s was as safe as the Bank of England," said Will—just a trifle pale. Every farthing of his father’s money was in this bank, which had never even been suspected in the most general crises. "It may be only a rumour," continued the Count. "But you may as well wait, to see if the evening papers have anything about it." "It will be a pretty story to carry down with me to Kent," said Will. "That’s what I was thinking of," said the Count, kindly—indeed he was not wholly a selfish man; "and I thought I might go down with you, if you liked, and try to help your father over the first shock. It will be a terrible blow to him—a man who has lived a quiet and easy life, with a little hunting, and shooting, and so on. I shouldn’t wonder if it entirely upset him and did some harm——" "You don’t know my father," said Will. They had not to wait for the evening papers. By twelve o’clock the news was current in the city. Miall & Welling had sent out their circular: the bank had suspended payment.