Their voices filled the bank, passed beyond it, were heard in the street. Rodd worked on bravely, but the perspiration stood on his brow, while the clerks, flurried and nervous, looked now at the clock and now at the malcontents whose violence and restlessness seemed to treble their numbers. Then it was that Ovington came in, and on the instant the noise died down, and there was silence. He advanced without speaking to within a few feet of the counter. He was cold, composed, upright, dignified. And still he did not speak. He surveyed his customers, his spectacles in his hand. His eyes took in each. At length, “Gentlemen,” he said quietly, “there is no need for this excitement. You will all be paid. We are shorthanded to-day, but I had no reason to suppose that those who know me as well as most of you do know me—and there are some here who have known me all my life—would distrust me. However, as we are shorthanded, the bank will remain open to-day until half-past four. Mr. Rodd, you will see, if you please, that the requirements of those now in the room are met. I need not add that the bank will open at the usual time to-morrow. Good-day, gentlemen.” They raised a feeble cheer in their relief, and in the act of turning away, he paused. “Mr. Ricketts,” he said, singling out one, “you are here about those bills? They are important. If you will bring them through to me—yes, if you please?” The man whom he had addressed, a banker’s clerk, followed him thankfully into the parlor. His uneasiness had been great, for, though he had not joined in his neighbors’ threats, his employers’ claim exceeded those of all the rest put together. “We daren’t wait, Mr. Ovington,” he said apologetically. “Our people want it. I take it, it is all right, sir?” “Quite,” Ovington said. “You have them here? What is the total?” “Eighteen hundred and twenty-eight, six, eight, sir.” Ovington examined the bills with a steady hand and wrote the amount on a slip of paper. He rang the bell, and the younger clerk came in. “Bring me that,” he said “as quickly as you can.” Then to his visitor, “My compliments to Mr. Allwood. Will you tell him that his assistance has been of material use to me, and that I shall not forget it? I was sorry to hear of Gibbons’ failure.” “Yes, sir. Very unfortunate. Very unfortunate, indeed?” “He is no loser by them, I hope?” “Well, he is, sir, I am sorry to say.” “Ah, I am sorry.” And when the lad had brought in the money, and the account was settled, “Are you returning to-night?” “No, sir. My instructions were to travel by daylight.” “Then you have an opportunity of stating outside, that you have been paid? I am anxious, of course, to stop this foolish run.”