“Umph? How did you do it?”
“I posted up and came down as far as Birmingham by the Bull and Mouth coach. I posted on this morning.”
“Well, you’ve been devilish quick!” The Squire admitted it reluctantly. He hardly knew whether to believe the tale or not. “You didn’t wait long there, that’s certain. And did as little, I suppose. Bank’s going, I hear?”
“I hope not.”
“Pooh!” the Squire said impatiently. “You may speak out! Speak out, man! There is no one here.”
“There’s some danger, I’m afraid.”
“Danger! I should think there was! More than danger, as I hear!” The Squire drummed for a moment with his fingers on the table. He was thinking not of the bank, or even of his loss, but of his nephew and the scandal that would not pass by him. But he would not refer to Arthur, and after a pause, “Well,” with an angry snort, “if that’s all you’ve come to tell me, you might have spared yourself—and me. I cannot say that your company’s very welcome, so if you please, we’ll dispense with compliments. If that’s all——”
“But that’s not all, sir,” Clement interposed. “I wish I could have brought back the securities, or even the whole of the money.”
The Squire laughed. “No doubt,” he said.
“But I was too late to ensure that. The stock had already been transferred.”