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 “But suppose the whole scheme should turn out to be a castle in the air?” said Mrs Garth.

“Well, well,” replied Caleb; “the castle will tumble about nobody’s head.”

was still seated in his manager’s room at the Bank, about three o’clock of the same day on which he had received Lydgate there, when the clerk entered to say that his horse was waiting, and also that Mr Garth was outside and begged to speak with him.

“By all means,” said Bulstrode; and Caleb entered. “Pray sit down, Mr Garth,” continued the banker, in his suavest tone. “I am glad that you arrived just in time to find me here. I know you count your minutes.”

“Oh,” said Caleb, gently, with a slow swing of his head on one side, as he seated himself and laid his hat on the floor. He looked at the ground, leaning forward and letting his long fingers droop between his legs, while each finger moved in succession, as if it were sharing some thought which filled his large quiet brow.

Mr Bulstrode, like every one else who knew Caleb, was used to his slowness in beginning to speak on any topic which he felt to be important, and rather expected that he was about to recur to the buying of some houses in Blindman’s Court, for the sake of pulling them down, as a sacrifice of property which would be well repaid by the influx of air and light on that spot. It was by propositions of this kind that Caleb was sometimes troublesome to his employers; but he had usually found Bulstrode ready to meet him in projects of improvement, and they had got on well together. When he spoke again, however, it was to say, in rather a subdued voice—

“I have just come away from Stone Court, Mr Bulstrode.”

“You found nothing wrong there, I hope,” said the banker; “I was there myself yesterday. Abel has done well with the lambs this year.”

“Why, yes,” said Caleb, looking up gravely, “there is something wrong—a stranger, who is very ill, I think. He wants a doctor, and I came to tell you of that. His name is Raffles.”

He saw the shock of his words passing through Bulstrode’s frame. On this subject the banker had thought that his fears were too constantly on the watch to be taken by surprise; but he had been mistaken.

“Poor wretch!” he said in a compassionate tone, though his lips trembled a little. “Do you know how he came there?”