He himself was utterly unarmed, but the stock-jobber had a pair of horse-pistols, and as this recollection flashed upon him, the pause of deliberation ceased.
With a swift step he descended the first flight of stairs, and pausing at the chamber door of the faithful couple, knocked upon its panels with a loud and hasty summons.

The second repetition of the noise produced the sentence, uttered in a very trembling voice, of "Who's there ?" "It is I, Clarence Linden," replied our hero; "lose no time in opening the door." This answer seemed to reassure the valorous stock-jobber.

He slowly undid the bolt, and turned the key.
"In Heaven's name, what do you want, Mr.Linden ?" said he.
"Ay," cried a sharp voice from the more internal recesses of the chamber, "what do you want, sir, disturbing us in the bosom of our family and at the dead of night ?" With a rapid voice, Clarence repeated what he had seen, and requested the broker to accompany him to Talbot's house, or at least to lend him his pistols.
"He shall do no such thing," cried Mrs.Copperas.

"Come here, Mr.C., and shut the door directly." "Stop, my love," said the stock-jobber, "stop a moment." "For God's sake," cried Clarence, "make no delay; the poor old man may be murdered by this time." "It's no business of mine," said the stock-jobber.

"If Adolphus had not broken the rattle I would not have minded the trouble of springing it; but you are very much mistaken if you think I am going to leave my warm bed in order to have my throat cut." "Then give me your pistols," cried Clarence; "I will go alone." "I shall commit no such folly," said the stock-jobber; "if you are murdered, I may have to answer it to your friends and pay for your burial.