CHAPTER VI.
THE OLD BANK.
About the same hour that Roland Sefton set off under shelter of old Marlowe's wagon to attempt his escape, Mr.Clifford, the senior partner in the firm, reached Riversborough by the last train from London.

It was too late for him to intrude on the household of his young partner, and he spent the night at a hotel.
The old bank at Riversborough had been flourishing for the last hundred years.

It had the power of issuing its own notes; and until lately these notes, bearing the familiar names of Clifford and Sefton, had been preferred by the country people round to those of the Bank of England itself.

For nobody knew who were the managers of the Bank of England; while one of the Seftons, either father or son, could be seen at any time for the last fifty years.

On ordinary days there were but few customers to be seen in its handsome office, and a single clerk might easily have transacted all the business.