All my letters had been written, all the people who had appointments with me had been received.I was looking carelessly over the newspaper, and thinking about going home, when one of my clerks came in, and said that a stranger wished to see me immediately on very important business.
"Did he mention his name?" I inquired.
"No, sir."
"Did you not ask him for it?"
"Yes, sir.And he said you would be none the wiser if he told me what it was.""Does he look like a begging-letter writer?""He looks a little shabby, sir, but he doesn't talk at all like a begging-letter writer.He spoke sharp and decided, sir, and said it was in your interests that he came, and that you would deeply regret it afterward if you refused to see him.""He said that, did he? Show him in at once, then."He was shown in immediately: a middling-sized man, with a sharp, unwholesome-looking face, and with a flippant, reckless manner, dressed in a style of shabby smartness, eying me with a bold look, and not so overburdened with politeness as to trouble himself about taking off his hat when he came in.I had never seen him before in my life, and I could not form the slightest conjecture from his appearance to guide me toward guessing his position in the world.He was not a gentleman, evidently; but as to fixing his whereabouts in the infinite downward gradations of vagabond existence in London, that was a mystery which I was totally incompetent to solve.
"Is your name Trowbridge?" he began.
"Yes," I answered, dryly enough.
"Do you bank with Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy & Graham?""Why do you ask?"
"Answer my question, and you will know."
"Very well, I _do_ bank with Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy &Graham--and what then?"
"Draw out every farthing of balance you have got before the bank closes at five to-day."I stared at him in speechless amazement.The words, for an instant, absolutely petrified me.
"Stare as much as you like," he proceeded, coolly, "I mean what Isay.Look at your clock there.In twenty minutes it will strike five, and the bank will be shut.Draw out every farthing, I tell you again, and look sharp about it.""Draw out my money!" I exclaimed, partially recovering myself.
"Are you in your right senses? Do you know that the firm I bank with represents one of the first houses in the world? What do you mean--you, who are a total stranger to me--by taking this extraordinary interest in my affairs? If you want me to act on your advice, why don't you explain yourself?""I have explained myself.Act on my advice or not, just as you like.It doesn't matter to me.I have done what I promised, and there's an end of it."He turned to the door.The minute-hand of the clock was getting on from the twenty minutes to the quarter.
"Done what you promised?" I repeated, getting up to stop him.
"Yes," he said, with his hand on the lock."I have given my message.Whatever happens, remember that.Good-afternoon."He was gone before I could speak again.
I tried to call after him, but my speech suddenly failed me.It was very foolish, it was very unaccountable, but there was something in the man's last words which had more than half frightened me.
I looked at the clock.The minute-hand was on the quarter.
My office was just far enough from the bank to make it necessary for me to decide on the instant.If I had had time to think, I am perfectly certain that I should not have profited by the extraordinary warning that had just been addressed to me.The suspicious appearance and manners of the stranger; the outrageous improbability of the inference against the credit of the bank toward which his words pointed; the chance that some underhand attempt was being made, by some enemy of mine, to frighten me into embroiling myself with one of my best friends, through showing an ignorant distrust of the firm with which he was associated as partner--all these considerations would unquestionably have occurred to me if I could have found time for reflection; and, as a necessary consequence, not one farthing of my balance would have been taken from the keeping of the bank on that memorable day.
As it was, I had just time enough to act, and not a spare moment for thinking.Some heavy payments made at the beginning of the week had so far decreased my balance that the sum to my credit in the banking-book barely reached fifteen hundred pounds.Isnatched up my check-book, wrote a draft for the whole amount, and ordered one of my clerks to run to the bank and get it cashed before the doors closed.What impulse urged me on, except the blind impulse of hurry and bewilderment, I can't say.I acted mechanically, under the influence of the vague inexplicable fear which the man's extraordinary parting words had aroused in me, without stopping to analyze my own sensations--almost without knowing what I was about.In three minutes from the time when the stranger had closed my door the clerk had started for the bank, and I was alone again in my room, with my hands as cold as ice and my head all in a whirl.
I did not recover my control over myself until the clerk came back with the notes in his hand.He had just got to the bank in the nick of time.As the cash for my draft was handed to him over the counter, the clock struck five, and he heard the order given to close the doors.
When I had counted the bank-notes and had locked them up in the safe, my better sense seemed to come back to me on a sudden.
Never have I reproached myself before or since as I reproached myself at that moment.What sort of return had I made for Mr.
