"After all, there's something in presentiment."

This was the first thought that took shape in Will's whirling mind.
The second was, that he might rationally have foreseen disaster. All
the points of strangeness which had struck him in Sherwood's
behaviour came back now with such glaring significance that he
accused himself of inconceivable limpness in having allowed things
to go their way--above all in trusting Godfrey with the St. Neots
cheque. On this moment of painful lucidity followed blind rage. Why,
what a grovelling imbecile was this fellow! To plunge into wild
speculation, on the word of some City shark, with money not his own!
But could one credit the story? Was it not more likely that Sherwood
had got involved in some cunning thievery which he durst not avow?
Perhaps he was a mere liar and hypocrite. That story of the ten
thousand pounds he had lent to somebody--how improbable it
sounded; why might he not have invented it, to strengthen confidence
at a critical moment? The incredible baseness of the man! He, who
knew well all that depended upon the safe investment of the St.
Neots money--to risk it in this furiously reckless way. In all the
records of City scoundrelism, was there a blacker case?

Raging thus, Warburton became aware that Mrs. Hopper spoke to him.
She had just laid breakfast, and, as usual when she wished to begin
a conversation, had drawn back to the door, where she paused.

"That Boxon, the grocer, has had a bad accident, sir."

"Boxon?--grocer?"

"In the Fulham Road, sir; him as Allchin was with."