"Nay, don't you talk like that, parson, thou doesn't know what it is to lose thy all," piped Gemp. "Lose?" cried Bayle, who had entered the bank quietly to see Sir Gordon. "Man, I have lost heavily too." Thickens was making signs to him now with his quill pen. "Ay, but I want my writings. I'll hev my writings," cried Gemp. "Neighbours, you have your money. Don't you believe 'em. They're robbers." "If I weer close to thee, owd Gemp, I'd tak' thee by the scruff and the band o' thy owd breeches and pitch thee out o' window. Sir Gordon's ready to do the handsome thing." "Touch me if you dare," cried old Gemp. "I want my writings. It was bank getting unsafe made me badly. You neighbours have all thy money out, for they haven't got enough to last long." There was a fresh murmur here, and Sir Gordon looked anxious. Mr Anderson stood fast; but it was evident that a strong party were waiting for their money, and more than one began to twitch Thickens by the sleeve, and present cheques and notes. Thickens paid no heed, but made his way to where Christie Bayle was standing, and handed him a pocket-book. "Here," he said. "I couldn't come to you. I had to watch the bank." "My pocket-book, Thickens?" "Yes, sir. I was just in time to knock that scoundrel over as he was throttling you. I'd come to meet the coach." "Why, Thickens!" cried Bayle, flushing--"Ah, you grasping old miser! What! turn thief?" The latter was to old Gemp, who saw the pocket-book passed, and made a hawk-like clutch at it, but his wrist was pinned by Bayle, who took the pocket-book and slipped it into his breast. "It's my papers--it's writings--it's--" His voice was drowned in a clamour that arose, as about twenty more people came hurrying in at the bank-door, eager to make demands for their deposits. Sir Gordon grew pale, for there was not enough cash in the house to meet the constant demand, and he had hoped that the ready payment of a great deal would quiet the run. The clamour increased, and it soon became evident that the dam had given way, and that nothing remained but to go on paying to the last penny in the bank, while there was every possibility of wreck and destruction following. "Howd hard, neighbours," cried Anderson; "Sir Gordon says it's all right. Dixons' 'll pay." "Dixons' can't pay," shouted a voice. "Hallam's got everything, and the bank's ruined." There was a roar here, and the fire seemed to have been again applied to the tow. Thickens looked in despair at Bayle, and then with a quick movement locked the cash drawer, and clapped the key in his pocket. The action was seen. There was a yell of fury from the crowd in front, and a dozen hands seized the clerk. Sir Gordon darted forward, this time without pistols, and hands and sticks were raised, when in a voice of thunder Christie Bayle roared: "Stop!" There was instant silence, for he had leaped upon the bank counter.