The rain set in before Jack was a block away from the bank. According to the morning paper it was only a shower; but John Bagsbury noted with pleasure that it had a downright, businesslike way about it, and a promise of plenty of endurance. By itself it had no evident effect, but it was doubtless preparing the mind of the crowd in the street for the more enthusiastic reception of the object lesson that was soon to arrive. John stepped to the door of his office and called to Mr. Peters. “I wish you’d have all the silver there is in the vaults brought out and piled in the tellers’ cages,” he said thoughtfully, “and have the men bring it out one bag at a time and carry it as though it was heavy. It won’t be necessary to open any of the bags, but I think it will look well.” While John stood at the door watching to see that his order was being carried out according to the spirit as well as the letter, his eyes fell repeatedly on Curtin. The assistant cashier was moving uneasily about, doing nothing in particular, and seeming to find that difficult to do. He would halt before a window and gaze sullenly out at the rain, and then hurry impatiently back to his desk. Once he walked the whole length of the narrow passage between the cages and the vaults, with no other apparent purpose than being in the way; for at the end of it he turned around and walked back. As he passed the door of the private office, John spoke to him. “Mr. Curtin, there’s no need of your staying any longer.” He turned a shade paler. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Nothing to get excited about,” said John, looking at him curiously. “I thought from your manner that you were uneasy and anxious to get away, and I said that nothing need detain you. Mr. Peters will see to locking up the vaults.” “I’d rather stay,” said Curtin, as steadily as he could. “I didn’t understand you at first. I am uneasy--I want to see the thing through--to see something stop this run--” John nodded brusquely and turned away. He had no particular reason for thinking that Curtin was lying, but the air of essential untruthfulness of the man made it difficult to believe him, even in a matter of no moment. Everything he did and the way he did it irritated John Bagsbury. There was nothing else to do, so the Banker sat down at his desk to await the arrival of the object lesson. Everything was ready. The rain was holding well, and the stacks of angular canvas bags behind the gratings seemed to be making an excellent impression on the file of depositors who were within the doors. But still the line was unbroken. All depended now on Jack Dorlin. It took him long enough, the Banker thought impatiently.