Part 46 (2/2)
”Well, I beg your pardon,” said Dodd, a little awed by his dignity and fairness, ”but I can't help it.”
The quick, supple banker saw the slight advantage he had gained, and his mind went into a whirl. What should he do? It was death to part with this money and gain nothing by it. Sooner tell Dodd of the love affair, and open a treaty on this basis: he clung to this money like limpet to its rock; and so intense and rapid were his thoughts and schemes how to retain it a little longer, that David's apologies buzzed in his ear like the drone of a beetle.
The latter went on to say, ”You see, sir, it's my children's fortune, my boy Edward's, and my little Julia's: and so many have been trying to get it from me, that my blood boils up in a moment about it now.--My poor head!--You don't seem to understand what I am saying! There then, I am a sailor; I can't go beating and tacking like you landsmen, with the wind dead astern. The long and the short is, I don't feel It safe here: don't feel It safe anywhere, except in my wife's lap. So no more words: here's your receipt; give me my money.”
”Certainly, Captain Dodd. Call to-morrow morning at the bank, and it will be paid on demand in the regular way: the bank opens at ten o'clock.”
”No, no; I can't wait. I should be dead of anxiety before then. Why not pay it me here and now? You took it here.”
”We receive deposits till four o'clock, but we do not disburse after three. This is the system of all banks.”
”That is all nonsense: if you are open to receive money, you are open to pay it.”
”My dear sir, if you were not entirely ignorant of business, you would be aware that these things are not done in this way. Money received is pa.s.sed to account, and the cas.h.i.+er is the only person who can honour your draft on it. But, stop; if the cas.h.i.+er is in the bank, we may manage it for you yet. Skinner, run and see whether he has left: and if not, send him to me directly.” The cas.h.i.+er took his cue and ran out.
David was silent.
The cas.h.i.+er speedily returned, saying, with a disappointed air, ”The cas.h.i.+er has been gone this quarter of an hour.”
David maintained an ominous silence.
”That is unfortunate,” remarked Hardie. ”But, after all, it is only till to-morrow morning. Still I regret this circ.u.mstance, sir; and I feel that all these precautions we are obliged to take must seem unreasonable to you. But experience dictates this severe routine, and, were we to deviate from it, our friends' money would not be so safe in our hands as it always has been at present.”
David eyed him sternly, but let him run on. When he had concluded his flowing periods, David said quietly, ”So you can't give me my own because your cas.h.i.+er has carried it away?”
Hardie smiled. ”No, no; but because he has locked it up and carried away the key.”
”It is not in this room, then?”
”No.”
”Are you sure?”
”Positive.”
”What, not in that safe of yours, there?”
”Certainly not,” said Hardie stoutly.
”Open the safe: the keys are in it.”
”Open the safe? What for?”
”To show me It is not in the right-hand part.i.tion of that safe; there: there.” And David pointed at the very place where it was.
The dignified Mr. Hardie felt ready to sink with shame: a kind of shudder pa.s.sed through him, and he was about to comply, heart-sick; but then wounded pride and the rage of disappointment stung him, and he turned in defiance. ”You are impertinent, sir, and I shall not reward your curiosity and your insolence by showing you the contents of my safe.”
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