k the stage to have the worst of
it," broke in Stocmar. "But whose cab is this in such tremendous
haste,--Trover's? And coming up here too? What's in the wind now?"

He had but finished these words when Trover rushed into the room, his
face pale as death, and his lips colorless.

"What's up?--what's the matter, man?" cried Stocmar.

"Ruin's the matter--a general smash in America--all securities
discredited--bills dishonored--and universal failure."

"So much the worse for the Yankees," said Paten, lighting his cigar
coolly.

A look of anger and insufferable contempt was all Trover's reply.

"Are you deep with them?" asked Stocmar, in a whisper to the banker.

"Over head and ears," muttered the other; "we have been discounting
their paper freely all through the winter, till our drawers are
choke-full of their acceptances, not one of which would now realize a
dollar."

"How did the news come? Are you sure of its being authentic?"

"Too sure; it came in a despatch to Mrs. Morris from London. All the
investments she has been making lately for the Heathcotes are clean
swept away; a matter of sixty thousand pounds not worth as many
penny-pieces."

"The fortune of Miss Leslie?" asked Stocmar.

"Yes; she can stand it, I fancy, but it's a heavy blow too."

"Has she heard the news yet?"

"No, nor Sir William either. The widow cautioned me strictly not to say
a word about it. Of course, it will be all over the city in an hour or
so, from other sources."

"What do you mean to do, then?"

"Twist is trying to convert some of our paper into cash, at a heavy
sacrifice. If he succeed, we can stand it; if not, we must bolt
to-night." He paused for a few seconds, and then, in a lower whisper,
said, "Is n't she game, that widow? What do you think she said? 'This
is mere panic, Trover,' said she; 'it's a Yankee roguery, and nothing
more. If I could command a hundred thousand pounds this minute, I 'd
invest every shilling of it in their paper; and if May Leslie will let
me, you 'll see whether I 'll be true to my word.'"

"It's easy enough to play a bold game on one's neighbor's money," said
Stocmar.

"She'd have the same pluck if it were her own, or I mistake her much.
Has _he_ got any disposable cash?" whispered Trover, with a jerk of his
thumb towards Paten.

"Not a sixpence in the world."

"What a situation!" said Trover, in a whisper, trembling with
agitation. "Oh, there's Heathcote's brougham,--stopping here to