“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.”