The atmosphere had become charged with excitement as a cloud becomes charged with electricity, and in a few minutes some other women were crying out that they had been robbed. Richard Westwood was becoming more hopeful, though he saw with regret that, in front of the cashier, there were a dozen stolid tradesmen, every one of whom had a balance of at least a thousand pounds. They were waiting their turn at the desk with complete indifference to the scenes that were being enacted behind them. Within half an hour twelve thousand pounds would be paid away, Richard Westwood perceived. His only hope was that the panic would be diverted into another channel--that the fools who had lost their heads over their money might go on accusing one another--accusing the constables--accusing any one. In such circumstances the police might insist on the doors of the bank being closed at the usual hour--nay, even before the usual hour. But while he was pretending to be exerting himself with a view to reassure a frantic lady, who declared that she had been robbed of a hundred pounds, though she had never been half-a-dozen yards from the entrance, and had consequently not received a penny from the cashier, the swing doors were flung wide, and a lady with a young man by her side stepped out of the porch and looked about her. Richard Westwood saw her, and his face, for the first time, became grave. Then the lady--she was a handsome woman, tall and dignified--gave a laugh, and in a moment there was silence in the place where all had been noise and confusion. All eyes were turned toward the newcomers. “Great Scott!” cried the young man--he was perhaps a few years over twenty, and he bore a strong likeness to the lady, who was certainly several years older. “Great Scott! Whats the matter here? Hallo, Westwood, I hope we don't intrude upon a Court of Sessions. My sister has come on business, but if you've let the bank”-- “If you have a cheque to be cashed,” began Mr. Westwood gravely, “I shall do my best to”-- “But I haven't a cheque to be cashed,” said the lady. “On the contrary, I have some money to lodge with you; fifteen thousand pounds--it's too much to have at home; it wouldn't be safe there, but I know it's perfectly safe here.” CHAPTER III. |Your money will be perfectly safe here, Miss Mowbray,” said the banker quietly. “But I'm afraid my clerks are too busily occupied to have a moment to spare to receive it to-day, unless you wait until my customers get their cheques cashed. You're getting well through your business, Mr. Calmour?” he added, turning to the cashier. “Slowly, sir. I haven't touched the second bag of twenty thousand,” replied the cashier. “I'm sure Cyril will be able to reach the desk,” said the lady, “and it will only occupy a clerk half a minute entering the lodgment. Good heavens! Mr. Westwood, it takes a clerk no longer to receive and enter up a cheque for fifteen thousand pounds than it does for a single note.”