Part 36 (1/2)

”Absurd!” Mrs. Delaporte echoed.

”I may add,” Mr. Cheape joined in, ”that I could not possibly recommend my clients to sign such a doc.u.ment.”

Mr. Bundercombe took up his hat.

”When I started out this morning,” he declared, ”I felt convinced that this conference would come to nothing. I told Mr. Wymans here that I was prepared to settle, but on my own terms--and my own terms only. I don't want any undertaking not to molest me in the future. That isn't good enough. I want to be able to show a doc.u.ment such as you have there, which completely exculpates me from any charge that might at any time be brought. And without it,” he added, once more bringing his fist down upon the back of the chair, ”I do not part with one penny of my four thousand pounds!”

Mr. Cheape read out a doc.u.ment he himself had prepared, but Mr.

Bundercombe waved it away.

”Come, Paul!” he said to me with a sigh. ”Come, Mr. Wymans! I disclaim all responsibility for the failure of this conference. I have done my best. It cannot matter a snap of the fingers to our friends here in what form the doc.u.ment is couched that they give me in exchange for my four thousand pounds. Since they are so particular about a trifle, I have finished with them!”

He led the way toward the door and there was an appearance of finality about his tone and shoulders exceedingly convincing. We had reached the threshold and were, indeed, indulging in a little skirmish as to who should pa.s.s through the door first, when Mr. Cheape's resigned voice checked us.

”My clients,” he announced slowly, ”will sign your doc.u.ment, Mr.

Bundercombe. They protest--they protest vigorously against its wording; but they are anxious to show you in how large-spirited and gentlemanly a manner they wish this affair to be concluded. Once more they yield.”

Mr. Bundercombe, without any signs of exultation, returned to his former place, put down his hat upon the chair and drew a checkbook from his breast coat pocket.

”If you will give me a seat and a pen,” he said, ”I will write you a check for the amount.”

Captain Bannister stared at the checkbook. He glanced at Mr. Cheape and Mr. Cheape very vigorously shook his head.

”I am sorry,” he objected; ”but my clients cannot think of accepting a check in settlement of this matter.”

Mr. Bundercombe began to show symptoms of annoyance.

”Bless my soul!” he exclaimed. ”Isn't the check of Joseph H. Bundercombe good enough for you?”

Mr. Cheape laid his hand soothingly upon Mr. Bundercombe's shoulder.

”It isn't that we doubt your check, sir,” he pointed out; ”but in a transaction of this sort it is best that no evidences of a lasting nature should exist. A check is not, as you know, legal tender, and a check my clients certainly could not accept.”

Mr. Bundercombe folded up his checkbook and replaced it in his pocket.

”Then what are you going to do about it?” he asked.

”Where is your bank?” Mr. Cheape inquired.

”In Pall Mall,” Mr. Bundercombe answered.

”Then I am afraid,” Mr. Cheape decided, ”there is nothing for it but to ask you to repair there and cash your own check.”

Mr. Bundercombe rose to his feet.

”All right!” he agreed. ”I suppose we had better finish the affair while we are about it. One of you had better come with me.”

Captain Bannister promptly volunteered. He and I and Mr. Bundercombe descended the stairs and entered the car. We pulled up in a few minutes at the door of Mr. Bundercombe's bank.