The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1897-06-16

PSStir, this beau
There appeared
3Hal attraction in the
Etorekeepers lounged In
:, farmers left their loaded
me market Quare to gather
street corners conversing in
Ones, and even the children sus-
e6ed play and watched these unusual
Indications of something approaching,
, much as they would the preparations for
a circus parade.
Yes, something, truly, was in the air
rumor. Dark, uncertain with the past
eventide. the night had ripened it to
gossip. Tittle-tattle!-the women
leaning over boundary fences discussed
1t with bobbering sun bonnets near to-
getber. Suspicion was rife at the break
fast hour, and now, in the faces OF a
motley crowd gathered on the principal
t%hroughfare, there were lowering looks,
while half-muttered CALCULATIONS OF rest
less anxiety, sometimes anger, told that
they were there for a purpose, and. every
eye seemed centered on the bank.
More grim, unsympathetic and for
bidding than even, the sombre pile OF
masonry, severely plain, frowned down
upon paSsers-by, this rare October morn
ing. S%tauncher than ever, the great
iron doors. the barred windows seemed
to hold safe and hidden, the secret white
faced men longed to tear from its strong
iron heart. They passed it slowly, to
and fro, sometimes encircling the square
to view the house OF Abel Merwyn which,
backing to the bank building, and con-
nected with it by a covered passage way,
fronted on the next street Blu here,
too, every blind was closed. LifeleSs as
the bank, there was no more token OF
the presence of the great village banker
10 the domestic circle, than at his post
. ofduty.
, What had happened? This Thirty
minutes before the bank had closed the
previous afternoon, the smart, dapper
clerk of a mill employing 200 men, ian
tauntlY up the steps of the bank with a
check to meet the demands Of pay Day.
Five minutes later, he had stumbled
down them ike a person recovering
from a vivid shock.
In ten minutes his story was told
Msrwyn's had refused payment-Mer-
#yhe's, insolYent Or crippled, had
shown EMPTY Golfers to meet a large de-.
fnand! For the first time in ten years,
the bank had failed to honor a valid
check!
Failure, ruin, disaster! The words
ran like wildfre. Merwyn's was shaky-
Merwyn's was tottering-the bank had
stopped payment! Like the scurrying
denizens of an ant hill, from store, mill
and tavern, came pouring forth a start
led, excited throng, men looked one au-
other askance, repeated the palpitatine
Intelligence, and started ~straightway for
the bank.
One man wedged in just as the great
doors were being shut for the day. He
was a small depositor, and was promptly
paid. An excitable farmer, his bank
book brandished wildly, threw himself
against the portals as they Changed shut
my money!" he raved madly, my
bard.earned savingsl Merwyn, you thief!
you robber. my money, or III tear your
house down over your head"
The ~unreasoning depositor was sud-
denly silenced. The door had opened
abruptly. A tall, athletic form slipped
through the portals. and confronted the
quivering mob resolutely.
Gentlemen" he said calmly, 'it is
past banking hours. At 10 tomorrow
morning, those who are anxious to heed
the idle rumor OF some meddling mis-
creant that the bank is unsafe, will be
paid in full"
Then Arnold Dacre, cashier, factotum
to the banker, active man In charge,
passed through the crowd, leaving its
members spell bound between hope and
suspicion.
And it was 10 o'clock now! A night
OF anxiety had passed, a morning opulent
with promise had dawned. Would
Arnold Dacre redeem his pledge?
Half-a-hundred men were gathered on
the pavement opposite the building, half
a-bundred more lined the iron fence that
protected the BANK area. 1t had been q
strangely moody throng all the morning.
1t was a marvelousIy silent one now, as,
from the Town Hall, there doomed forth
ten solemn, palpitating strokes Of the
bell.
! The hour had arrived, but not the
man. Every eye fixed upon the massive
iron doors, the click Of a catch, the
culver of q knob would have be de-
tected.
One minute-there was no movement
at the mctal-guarded portals. Two min
utes-through one of the windows crancd
heads detected a form crossing the count
ing room burriedly, a great leather port
folio in his hands - John Wharton, the
clerk of the Institution.
Three minutcs-four-hve! Low NUT
terings began to creep upon the air. An
Involuntary sway Of the crowd took IL a
Yard nearer To the iror steps. One man.
with a muttcred curse and q sob about
1.-THE little ones at home" stopped in the
streetway, aud kicked loose al immense
paving boulder.
"Where's Merwyn?" he ground forth.
eff there's any trickery going Oh, if those
doors don't open"
"Hush! They're coming"
With a great unanimous breath OF sus-
,pense, the throng swayed forward-a
form had appeared at one of the win
dows.
Arnold Dacre's set face came into
view. He was smoking a cigar. and
those cold, contemptuous lips of his never
quivered, his deep-set eve never aualled
IS be faced the huttering mob.
He did not come to the doors. Instead,
he raised the heavy sash. reached out