Not long after the bank opened a number of people came in who asked for gold in return for some bank-notes which they offered. This was an unusual circumstance. The people also were strangers. Potts wondered what it could mean. There was no help for it, however. The gold was paid out, and Potts and his friends began to feel somewhat alarmed at the thought which now presented itself for the first time that their very large circulation of notes might be returned upon them. He communicated this fear to Clark. “How much gold have you?” “Very little.” “How much?” “Thirty thousand.” “Phew!” said Clark, “and nearly two hundred thousand out in notes!” Potts was silent. “What’ll you do if there is a run on the bank?” “Oh, there won’t be.” “Why not?” “My credit is too good.” “Your credit won’t be worth a rush if people know this.” While they talked persons kept dropping in. Most of the villagers and people of the neighborhood brought back the notes, demanding gold. By about twelve o’clock the influx was constant. Potts began to feel alarmed. He went out, and tried to bully some of the villagers. They did not seem to pay any attention to him, however. Potts went back to his parlor discomfited, vowing vengeance against those who had thus slighted him. The worst of these was the tailor, who brought in notes to the extent of a thousand pounds, and when Potts ordered him out and told him to wait, only laughed in his face. “Haven’t you got gold enough?” said the tailor, with a sneer. “Are you afraid of the bank? Well, old Potts, so am I.” At this there was a general laugh among the people. The bank clerks did not at all sympathize with the bank. They were too eager to pay out. Potts had to check them. He called them in his parlor, and ordered them to pay out more slowly. They all declared that they couldn’t. The day dragged on till at last three o’clock came. Fifteen thousand pounds had been paid out. Potts fell into deep despondency. Clark had remained throughout the whole morning. “There’s going to be a run on the bank!” said he. “It’s only begun.” Potts’s sole answer was a curse. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “You’ll have to help me,” replied Potts. “You’ve got something.” “I’ve got fifty thousand pounds in the Plymouth Bank.” “You’ll have to let me have it.” Clark hesitated. “I don’t know,” said he. “D-n it, man, I’ll give you any security you wish. I’ve got more security than I know what to do with.” “Well,” said Clark, “I don’t know. There’s a risk.” “I only want it for a few days. I’ll send down stock to my London broker and have it sold. It will give me hundreds of thousands--twice as much as all the bank issue. Then I’ll pay up these devils well, and that d----d tailor worst of all. I swear I’ll send it all down to-day, and have every bit of it sold. If there’s going to be a run, I’ll be ready for them.” “How much have you?”