All day the stream poured through the office, and when four o'clock came, and the doors were closed for the day, the street without was still blocked by the expectant crowd, while there remained scarce a thousand pounds of bullion in the cellars.
"It is only postponed.

Louis," said brother Rupert despairingly, when the last clerk had left the office, and when at last they could relax the fixed smile upon their haggard faces.
"Those shutters will never come down again," cried brother Louis, and the two suddenly burst out sobbing in each other's arms, not for their own griefs, but for the miseries which they might bring upon those who had trusted them.
But who shall ever dare to say that there is no hope, if he will but give his griefs to the world?
That very night Mrs.Spurling had received a letter from her old school friend, Mrs.Louis Garraweg, with all her fears and her hopes poured out in it, and the whole sad story of their troubles.

Swift from the Vicarage went the message to the Hall, and early next morning Mr.Raffles Haw, with a great black carpet-bag in his hand, found means to draw the cashier of the local branch of the Bank of England from his breakfast, and to persuade him to open his doors at unofficial hours.

By half-past nine the crowd had already begun to collect around Garraweg's, when a stranger, pale and thin, with a bloated carpet-bag, was shown at his own very pressing request into the bank parlour.
"It is no use, sir," said the elder brother humbly, as they stood together encouraging each other to turn a brave face to misfortune, "we can do no more.

We have little left, and it would be unfair to the others to pay you now.