Part 62 (1/2)

”Indeed,” retorted the Pilot. ”Then what's the good o' them, if nothing can be done with 'em?”

”For the matter o' that, Summerhayes,” said Sartoris, ”if this gen'leman don't quite like to trust himself in the matter, there's plenty outside will take them there bits o' paper as security, and be glad to get 'em.

I've seen the thing done, Summerhayes, though I can't say I've done it myself, never having had enough money to deposit in a bank.”

”Ah--well,” said the banker, ”of course it _can_ be managed, but you would lose the interest.”

”The interests be--be--the interest be hanged!” exclaimed the Pilot.

”But the young lady must act under no compulsion, sir.” Mr. Tomkinson spoke with a dignity worthy of the great inst.i.tution which he represented. ”She must do it of her own free will.”

”Ask her,” said the Pilot.

The manager looked at Rose, who said, ”I want to draw seven thousand pounds of this money,” but she felt as though she was speaking in a dream, so unreal did the situation seem to her.

”The best way for your daughter to act,” said the manager, turning to the Pilot, ”will be for her to sign seven thousand pounds' worth of these receipts over to the bank, and to open in her own name an account, on which she can draw to the amount specified.”

”Very good,” said the Pilot, ”that would suit; but why couldn't you say so at first, instead o' boxing the compa.s.s?”

The business was soon concluded, and Rose, for the first time in her life, drew a cheque, which was for nothing less than 7000.

”This is a large sum,” said the manager, ”a large sum to take in a lump.”

”Isn't it her own money she's taking?” said the Pilot. ”I'm her father, and I don't see anything wrong about it.”

”But there her credit ceases,” said the manager.

”Let it cease,” said the Pilot.

The cheque was cashed at the counter, and Rose walked out of the bank with a mighty sheaf of notes in her hand.

For safety's sake, the Pilot relieved her of some of her wealth, and Captain Sartoris relieved her of the rest, and thus the three walked briskly towards the Red Tape Office. Here, with difficulty and much climbing up and down stairs and traversing of corridors, they found the room of the District Judge, who was, in his minor capacity, likewise the Resident Magistrate.

He was a man of benign countenance, who, after the customary greetings and explanations had been made, politely asked them to be seated. This invitation the Pilot neglected to comply with, but, advancing to the table behind which the Judge sat, he said,

”I believe you have locked up a young man of the name of Scarlett.”

”That's so,” said the Judge.

”Well, he's a friend o' mine,” said the Pilot, ”a partic'lar friend.”

”Indeed,” said the Judge, smiling kindly. ”I'm glad that Mr. Scarlett is not without friends.”

”I've a great respect for the Law,” continued the Pilot. ”I always had, but that don't make me feel less anxious to help a friend o' mine that's got into its clutches.”

The Judge continued to smile at the Pilot from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. ”I can quite believe it,” he said.

”Cap'n Sartoris,” said the Pilot, in his gruffest manner. ”Stand up, sir!”

Sartoris stood.

”Scarlett was your s.h.i.+pmate, Cap'n?” continued the Pilot.