curb, and little knots of country folk and townspeople obstructed the sidewalk. David Vallory nodded good-morning to one and another in the groups as he swung past, and was immediately conscious of a sort of hushed restraint on the part of those who returned his greetings.

In the bank an orderly throng was inching and shuffling its way in sober silence to the paying teller’s window. There were no signs of panic, and any excitement that might underlie the unusual crush of business seemed to be carefully suppressed. But Vallory saw that old Abner Winkle, and the clerk he had called into the cage to help him, wore anxious faces; and Winkle’s hands, the hands of a man who had grown gray in the service[9] of the country-town bank, were tremulous and uncertain as he counted out the money to the waiting cheque-holders.

[9]

David made his way to the rear of the narrow lobby, to a door with a ground-glass panel bearing the word “President” in black lettering. He entered without knocking, but was careful to snap the catch of the lock to prevent a possible intrusion. A tall, thinly bearded man, prematurely white-haired, with a face that was almost effeminate in its skin texture and the fineness of its lines, and with the near-sighted eyes and round-shouldered stoop of a student and book lover, got rather uncertainly out of his chair at the old-fashioned desk.

“David!” he exclaimed. “I knew you’d come, and I’m glad you are here. Was the train late?”

“An hour or thereabouts. Didn’t you get my answer to your wire?”

The older man put his hand to his head. “Did I?” he asked half absently. “I suppose I must have, if you sent one. I—I think I haven’t been quite responsible since I telegraphed you. You saw what is going on out in the bank; it has been that way since day before yesterday. I waited as long as I dared. I knew it would be a shock to you, and I—I didn’t want to shock you, son.”

[10]David Vallory placed a chair for himself at the desk end and felt mechanically for his pipe and tobacco. Disaster was plainly in the air and he prepared himself to meet it.

[10]

“When you’re ready, Dad,” he said.

Adam Vallory sank into his chair. There was a bit of string on the desk and he picked it up and began aimlessly to untie the knots in it.

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