At eight o'clock the streets were still crowded. It was fairly warm: there was little or no traffic after dusk, and it became evident that thousands of people had all tacitly resolved to do the same thing--remain in the streets all night outside their particular offices or business houses, and wait so that they might have the first chance in the morning. People sat on the paths and in the roadway. Every City house of refreshment had been depleted of food long since. Under the big electric lamps people reclined, reading the evening papers. It was a gigantic picnic, with tragedy to crown the feast. There was no laughter, nothing but grim determination of purpose. The papers were full of bad news from the provinces. Everywhere public credit was shaken to breaking point. There had been runs on scores of local banks. In the West End there was only one topic of conversation. But the theatres and restaurants were open, and life was going on much the same. In a private room at the Savoy Ericsson and his partner in guilt were dining. The waiters had gone, the wine and cigars stood on the table. There was a subdued look about both of them, a furtive cast of the eyes and just a suggestion of slackness in their hands not due entirely to the champagne. It was a long time before either of them spoke. "Pretty warm day, Eli," Ericsson suggested. Asherton-Smith wiped his red damp forehead. "Rather," he said. "I'm not so sharp as you, I know, but I'd forfeit a few thousands to be well out of this." Ericsson was not so contemptuous of his thick-witted partner as usual. "I should like to know what you are driving at," he muttered. "Well, we've been too sharp. We've played the game too far. Shares were only to drop a few points, and we were to buy for the rise. We've laid out every penny that we could rake together for the rise. And what have we got? Some hundreds of thousands of shares a few points below par? Not a bit of it. If this panic waits two days longer we shall have exchanged all our own cash and our own credit for a ton or two of waste paper." "It will all come back again," Ericsson said uneasily. "Ah, but when? The bogey has been too big for the public. We've given them a scare that they will not get over in a hurry for many a day. We've shown them what _might_ happen. And they tumble to the fact that things are far too inflated. The fall of a few points would have put millions into our pockets. As it is, we shall have to hold on perhaps for months. And we're not strong enough to do that." "If the cable works again to-morrow." Ericsson said hoarsely after a pause, "it----" "Yes, and if it doesn't? And if the thing goes on, what then? And if there should be a run to-morrow on the Bank of England!" "I never thought of that," Ericsson groaned. "Pass the brandy. If only to-morrow were Saturday instead of Thursday! A pretty black Thursday it's going to be."