Ovington nodded, and they rose, some merely curious, others eager to show themselves in their new role of dignity. Arthur opened the door and stood aside. Beyond the door the cashier’s desk with its green curtains formed a screen which masked their presence. Ovington separated the curtains, and Sir Charles and Acherley peeped between them. The others looked round the desk. The space devoted to the public was full. It hummed with low voices, but above the hum sharp sentences from time to time rang out. “Here, don’t push! It’s struck, Mr. Rodd! Hand ’em out!” Then, louder than these, a lusty voice bawled, “Here, get out o’ my road! I want money for a cheque, man!” The two clerks were at the counter, with piles of application forms before them and their eyes on the clock. Clement and Rodd stood in the background. The impassive attitude of the four contrasted strikingly with the scene beyond the counter, where eighteen or twenty persons elbowed and pushed one another, their flushed faces eloquent of the spirit of greed. For it had got about that there was easy money and much money to be made out of the Railroad shares—to be made in particular by those who were first in the field. Some looked to make the money by a sale at a premium, others foresaw a profit but hardly knew how it was to come, more had heard of men who had suddenly grown rich, and fancied that this was their chance. They had but to sign a form and pay an instalment, and profit would flow in, they did not care whence. They were certain, indeed, but of one thing, that there was gain in it; and with every moment their number grew, for with every moment a newcomer forced his way, smiling, into the bank. Meantime the crowd gave good-humored vent to their impatience. “Let’s have ’em! Hand ’em out!” they murmured. What if there were not enough to go round? The man with the cheque, hopelessly wedged in, protested. “There, someone hand it on,” he cried at last. “And pass me out the money, d—n you! And let me get out of this.” The slip was passed from hand to hand, and “How’ll you have it, Mr. Boumphry?” Rodd asked. “In shares!” cried a wit. “Notes and a pound in silver,” gasped Boumphry, who thought the world had gone mad. “And dunno get on my back, man!” to one behind him. “I’m not a bullock! Here, how’m I to count it when I canna get——” “A form!” cried a second wit. “Neither can we, farmer! Come, out with ’em, gentlemen. Hullo, Mr. Purslow! That you? Ha’ you turned banker?” The draper, who had showed himself over-confidently, fell back purple with blushes. “Certainly an odd sight,” said the banker quietly. “It promises well, I think, Sir Charles.” “Hanged well!” said Acherley. Sir Charles acquiesced. “Er, I think so,” he said. “I certainly think so.” But he felt himself a little out of place.