But while he was pretending to be exerting himself with a view to reassure a frantic lady, who declared that she had been robbed of a hundred pounds, though she had never been half-a-dozen yards from the entrance, and had consequently not received a penny from the cashier, the swing doors were flung wide, and a lady with a young man by her side stepped out of the porch and looked about her. Richard Westwood saw her, and his face, for the first time, became grave.
Then the lady—she was a handsome woman, tall and dignified—gave a laugh, and in a moment there was silence in the place where all had been noise and confusion. All eyes were turned toward the newcomers.
“Great Scott!” cried the young man—he was perhaps a few years over twenty, and he bore a strong likeness to the lady, who was certainly several years older. “Great Scott! Whats the matter here? Hallo, Westwood, I hope we don't intrude upon a Court of Sessions. My sister has come on business, but if you've let the bank”—
“If you have a cheque to be cashed,” began Mr. Westwood gravely, “I shall do my best to”—
“But I haven't a cheque to be cashed,” said the lady. “On the contrary, I have some money to lodge with you; fifteen thousand pounds—it's too much to have at home; it wouldn't be safe there, but I know it's perfectly safe here.”
CHAPTER III.
Your money will be perfectly safe here, Miss Mowbray,” said the banker quietly. “But I'm afraid my clerks are too busily occupied to have a moment to spare to receive it to-day, unless you wait until my customers get their cheques cashed. You're getting well through your business, Mr. Calmour?” he added, turning to the cashier.
“Slowly, sir. I haven't touched the second bag of twenty thousand,” replied the cashier.