He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of which he had grown to be a part, like strong root-ivy.
It chanced that they derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation of the main building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never calculated about that.
All such circumstances were indifferent to him, so that he did his duty.
On the opposite side of the courtyard, under a colonnade, was extensive standing-for carriages-where, indeed, some carriages of Monseigneur yet stood.
Against two of the pillars were fastened two great flaring flambeaux, and in the light of these, standing out in the open air, was a large grindstone: a roughly mounted thing which appeared to have hurriedly been brought there from some neighbouring smithy, or other workshop.
Rising and looking out of window at these harmless objects, Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire.
He had opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it, and he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame.
From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate, there came the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an indescribable ring in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted sounds of a terrible nature were going up to Heaven.
"Thank God," said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, "that no one near and dear to me is in this dreadful town to-night. May He have mercy on all who are in danger!"
Soon afterwards, the bell at the great gate sounded, and he thought, "They have come back!" and sat listening. But, there was no loud irruption into the courtyard, as he had expected, and he heard the gate clash again, and all was quiet.