Again Monroe went to see Mr. Sandford, but with no better success. The
third time he naturally spoke in a peremptory tone, and, giving his name
and business, said, that he must and would see Mr. Sandford, or get the
notes. The weight of his employer's trouble rested on him, and gave an
unwonted force to his usually kind and modest temper. The clerk, not
daring to break his instructions, and seeing that it was not far from
two o'clock, intimated, in a half-confidential tone, that he would
do well to ask Mr. Tonsor, the broker, about them. Nervous with
apprehension, Monroe walked swiftly to Tonsor's office. At the door he
met Fletcher coming out with exultation in every feature. Within stood
Bullion, his legs more astride than usual, his chin more confidently
settled over his collar, and the head of his cane pressed against his
mouth. As Monroe entered, Tonsor ceased the conversation, and, looking
up, said, blandly, "My young friend, can I do anything for you?" Bullion
at the same time turned the eyes that might have been only glittering
petrifactions, and pointed the long eyebrow at him inquiringly.
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