But on market-days and fair-days the place was crowded by loud-voiced, red-faced country gentlemen, and by awkward and burly farmers, from the moment its doors were opened until they were closed at the last stroke of four sounding from the church clock near at hand.

The strong room of the Old Bank was filled full with chests containing valuable securities and heirlooms, belonging to most of the county families in the neighborhood.
For the last twenty years Mr.Clifford had left the management of the bank entirely to the elder Sefton, and upon his death to his son, who was already a partner.

He had lived abroad, and had not visited England for more than ten years.

There was a report, somewhat more circumstantial than a rumor, but the truth of which none but the elder Sefton had ever known, that Mr.Clifford, offended by his only son, had let him die of absolute starvation in Paris.

Added to this rumor was a vague story of some crime committed by the younger Clifford, which his father would not overlook or forgive.