"Well," said the trader, "I'll say nothing against him, for I've seen no doings of his that I'd protest. An upstanding, candid dealer, and I'm sorry things have gone as they have, if only for his sake."
"Have you heard the news of him?" asked Stroude, who had been sipping his apple-toddy. He shook his head forebodingly. "He's taken to his bed."
"No," said the trader.
"He'd seen what was coming to the firm before the ship was lost, and worked day and night to waste the blow," said Mr. Stroude. "No one, so I'm told, will know how hard he worked."
"I wouldn't have thought a little extra labor would do hurt to a tough-built one like him," said the snub-nosed man.
"Nor I," agreed Stroude. "But 'tis the strain on the feelings and the nerves that does it. Thews are not much help against such things. Also, he had a hurt, a year ago, a knock on the head; and then he didn't spare himself during the plague. These things come home to us when we are not expecting them."
The trader finished his ale.
"There never was a time," said he, "when he'd be of more service if he were up and about. The rats from Harmony Court and other holes and corners are gathered to loot what's left of the house; and, given their ways, they'll not leave a pick on its bones."
Anthony would have stood upon his feet if this dark thing had not come to Charles; he would have stood toughly on his feet despite everything else and would have dourly demanded the right of every man who sought to put hand on what remained of the business. But this unlooked-for turn of matters had sapped his reserve; he tottered; there was no ground to fight upon. And Dr. King sternly told him to go to bed and to stay there.
Captain Weir, calm, set of face, stood beside the young man, in his lodgings in Sassafras Street and told him of some of the things that were going forward.