“How much will you give?”
“I’ll give ten thousand pounds—there! I don’t mind.”
“Done. Give me your note for sixty thousand pounds, and I’ll let you have the fifty thousand for three days.”
“All right. You’ve got me where my hair is short; but I don’t mind. When can I have the money?”
“The day after to-morrow. I’ll go to Plymouth now, get the money to-morrow, and you can use it the next day.”
“All right; I’ll send down John to London with the stock, and he’ll bring up the gold at once.”
Clark started off immediately for Plymouth, and not long after John went away to London. Potts remained to await the storm which he dreaded.
The next day came. The bank opened late on purpose. Potts put up a notice that it was to be closed that day at twelve, on account of the absence of some of the directors.
At about eleven the crowd of people began to make their appearance as before. Their demands were somewhat larger than on the previous day. Before twelve ten thousand pounds had been paid. At twelve the bank was shut in the faces of the clamorous people, in accordance with the notice.
Strangers were there from all parts of the county. The village inn was crowded, and a large number of carriages was outside. Potts began to look forward to the next day with deep anxiety. Only five thousand pounds remained in the bank. One man had come with notes to the extent of five thousand, and had only been got rid of by the shutting of the bank. He left, vowing vengeance.