“Thirty thousand pounds.”
“Do you want it in gold?”
“Of course.”
“Will you take a draft on Messrs. Smithers & Co.?”
“No, I want gold.”
While Potts was talking to this man another was waiting patiently beside him. Of course this imperative claimant had to be paid or else the bank would have to stop, and this was a casualty which Potts could not yet face with calmness. Before it came to that he was determined to pay out his last sovereign.
On paying the thirty thousand pounds it was found that there were only two bags left of two thousand pounds each.
The other man who had waited stood calmly, while the one who had been paid was making arrangements about conveying his money away.
It was now two o’clock. The stranger said quietly to the clerk opposite that he wanted gold.
“How much?” said the clerk, with the same blandness.