"It is nearly half-past two," one of them remarked.

"No matter. It's of too much importance to him to keep his good
name; he'll find somebody to help him. Threaten him with a protest;
shake that over his head, and the money'll be raised."

With a Siberian aspect, the man returned to me.

"Can't do any thing for you," he said. "Sorry for it."

"My note must lie over, then," I replied.

"It will be protested."

The very sound of the word went through me like an arrow. I felt the
perspiration starting from every pore; but I was indignant at the
same time, and answered, as firmly as I could speak--"Very well; let
it be."

"As you like," he said, in the same cold tone, and with the same
dark aspect, partly turning away as he spoke.

"But, my dear sir"--

"It is useless to waste words," he remarked, interrupting me. "You
have our ultimatum."

As I left the store, I felt as if I had been guilty of some crime; I
was ashamed to look even the clerks in the face. A feeble resolution