At this moment the conversation was interrupted by a hollow voice. "You must pay, sir. That's my way.--You must pay or you must go." The business-like nature, the every-day character of these words, was in painful contrast with the hollow accent which accompanied their utterance. At the sound the boy sprang to his feet, and the Colonel started as though a pistol had exploded at his ear. The merchant prince had risen into a sitting posture. His thin features, low, broad forehead, wide mouth, with thin lips and pointed chin, were thrown strongly into view by the white cravat which encircled his throat. Those features were bathed in moisture. The small eyes, at other times half concealed by heavy lids, were now expanded in a singular stare,--a stare which made the blood of the Colonel grow cold in his veins. "God bless us! What's the matter with you, good Mr. Somers?" he ejaculated. But the rich man did not heed him. "I wouldn't give a snap for your Reading Railroad--bad stock--bad stock--it must burst. It _will_ burst, I say. Pay, pay, pay, or go! That's the only way to do business. D'ye suppose I'm an ass? The note _can't_ lie over. If you don't meet it, it shall be protested." As he uttered these incoherent words, his expanding eyes still fixed, he inserted his tremulous hand in his waist-coat pocket, and took from thence a GOLDEN EAGLE, which he brought near his eyes, gazing at it long and eagerly. "He's delirious," ejaculated Tarleton, "why don't you go for a doctor?" "Oh, what shall I do?" cried Gulian, rushing to the door, "why doesn't the doctor come?--" But at the door he was confronted by the buxom housekeeper, who whispered, "Our doctor is out of town, but one of the servants has found another one: he's writing down-stairs." "Quick! Quick! Bring him at once;" and Gulian, in his flight, pushed the housekeeper out of the room. Mr. Somers still remained in a sitting posture, his eye fixed upon the golden eagle. "Tell Jenks to foreclose," he muttered, "I've nothing to do with the man's wife and children. It isn't in the way of business. The mortgage isn't paid, and we must sell--sell--sell,--sell," he repeated until his voice died away in a murmur. The doctor entered the room. "Where is our patient?" he said, as he advanced to the bedside. He was a man somewhat advanced in years, with bent figure and stooping shoulders. He was clad in an old-fashioned surtout, with nine or ten heavy capes hanging about his shoulders; and, as if to protect him from the cold, a bright-red kerchief was tied about his neck and the lower part of his face. He wore a black fur hat, with an ample brim, which effectually shaded his features. The Colonel started at the sight of this singular figure. "Our friend of the blue capes, as I'm alive!" he muttered half aloud.