“What about the report that Page, Bacon & Company’s St. Louis house has failed?” said Stanley in an undertone.  Sherman eyed him sharply.  “Where’d you hear that?” he shot back.  And then, ere Adrian could answer, he inquired, “Have you much on deposit there?”

“Ten thousand,” replied the young contractor.

For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar about between grim lips.  Then he put a hand abruptly on the other’s shoulder.  “Take it out,” he said, “today.”

* * * * *

Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry Haight, manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of the Sacramento branch.  He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing furiously at his cigar.  As he passed through the bank, Sherman noted an unusual line of men, interspersed with an occasional woman, waiting their turn for the paying teller’s service.  The man was counting out gold and silver feverishly.  There was whispering among the file of waiters.  To him the thing had an ominous look.

He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams & Company.  There also the number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual; the receiving teller’s window was neglected.  James King of William, who, since the closing of his own bank, had been Adams & Company’s manager, came forward and drew Sherman aside.  “What do you think of the prospect?” he asked.  “Few of us can stand a run.  We’re perfectly solvent, but if this excitement spreads it means ruin for the house—­for every bank in town perhaps.”

“Haight’s drunk,” said Sherman tersely.  “Page is silly with fear.  I went over to help them ... but it’s no use.  They’re gone.”

King’s bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “that makes it harder for us all.”  He smiled mirthlessly.  “You’re better off than we ... with our country branches.  If anything goes wrong here, our agents will be blamed.  There may be bloodshed even.”  He held out his hand and Sherman gripped it.  “Good luck,” the latter said, “we’ll stand together, far as possible.”

As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line had grown before the paying teller’s window.  It extended now outside the door.  At Palmer, Cook & Company’s and Naglee’s banks it was the same.  The human queue, which issued from the doors of Page, Bacon & Company, now reached around the corner.  It was growing turbulent.  Women tried to force themselves between the close-packed file and were repelled.  One of these was Sherman’s washwoman.  She clutched his coat-tails as he hurried by.

“My God, sir!” she wailed, “they’ve my money; the savings of years.  And now they say it’s gone ... that Haight’s gambled ... spent it on women ...”

Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others.  “How’s your bank?” people shouted at him.  “How’s Lucas-Turner?”

“Sound as a dollar,” he told them; “come and get your money when you please; it’s there waiting for you.”