eard the news?" asked Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence, turning
sharply in her chair and looking at Colville with an expression of
sudden relief. She carried a handkerchief in her hand, but her eyes were
dry. She was, after all, only a forerunner of those who now propose
to manage human affairs. And even in these later days of their great
advance, they have not left their pocket-handkerchiefs behind them.

"I was told by one of the crowd," replied Colville, with a side smile
full of sympathy for Turner, "that the--er--bank had come to grief."

"Was just telling Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence," said Turner, imperturbably,
"that it is too early in the day to throw up the sponge and cry out that
all is lost."

"All!" echoed Colville, angrily. "But do you mean to say--Why, surely,
there is generally something left."

Turner shrugged his shoulders and sat in silence, gnawing the middle
joint of his thumb.

"But I must have the money!" cried Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence. "It is most
important, and I must have it at once. I withdraw it all. See, I
brought my cheque-book with me. And I know that there are over a hundred
thousand pounds in my account. As well as that, you hold securities for
two hundred and fifty thousand more--my whole fortune. The money is not
yours: it is mine. I draw it all out, and I insist on having it."

Turner continued to bite his thumb, and glanced at her without speaking.

"Now, damn it all, Turner!" said Colville, in a voice suddenly hoarse;
"hand it over, man."

"I tell you it is gone," was the answer.

"What? Three hundred and fifty thousand pounds? Then you are a rogue!
You are a fraudulent trustee! I always thought you were a damned
scoundrel, Turner, and now I know it. I'll get you to the galleys for
the rest of your life, I promise you that."

"You will gain nothing by that," returned the banker, staring at the
date-card in front of him. "And you will lose any chance there is of
recovering something from the wreck. Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence had better
take the advice of her lawyer--in preference to yours."

"Then I am ruined!" said that lady, rising, with an air of resolution.
She was brave, at all events.

"At the present moment, it looks like it," admitted Turner, without
meeting her eye.

"What am I to do?" murmured Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence, looking helplessly
round the room and finally at the banker's stolid face.

"Like the rest of us, I suppose," he admitted. "Begin the world afresh.
Perhap