the bank with the object of lodging the money.
Just as he was crossing the space between door and counter he met Stimpson, who had told at the club about Bender & Truesett’s reduced dividend. Stimpson was a small, aggressive man with a predilection for laying down the law. He loved the sound of his own voice, and never missed the chance of an argument. Charles at once saw himself buttonholed.
But Stimpson did not stop. Instead of coming forward with some extravagant statement, calculated to produce an outraged denial, he hesitated, appeared to avoid Charles’s eye and, murmuring something about the day not having turned out so badly, made as if to pass on.
The action was so barefaced that, in spite of his preoccupation, Charles could not fail to notice it. It aroused his surprise and resentment. He turned round.
‘Well, Stimpson,’ he said in a loudish voice, ‘anything interesting at the club to-day?’
The man had to stop in spite of himself. ‘You weren’t there, Swinburn?’ he mumbled.
‘I was lunching with the uncle.’
‘Mr Crowther? How is he keeping?’
‘Not so well as usual. Beginning to go down the hill, I’m afraid.’
‘He must be a pretty old man by now. Well, ’scuse me, Swinburn – Edwards is waiting for me at the office.’
The man was civil enough, but evidently uneasy, and in moving off he did not meet Charles’s eye. Charles was puzzled as well as annoyed. However, he controlled his feelings and moved up to the counter.
‘Good afternoon, Handcock,’ he greeted the teller. ‘Lovely day.’
‘Splendid, Mr Swinburn. Too hot, if anything.’
Charles wondered if he was getting super-sensitive. Was there in the clerk’s manner that same element of constraint which he had noticed in Stimpson’s? Certainly the man did not seem at ease, and Charles caught him eyeing the cheque which Charles had produced with evident anxiety.
But the moment he glanced at it his face cleared. Quite unmistakably also his manner changed. He smiled in a relieved way, and asked Charles how he thought next Saturday’s match would go. At the same time Charles thought he saw him make a kind of signal to someone at his, Charles’s, back. In a leisurely way Charles changed his position, and glanced behind him. Witheroe was there, apparently just approaching.
‘Missed you from lunch to-day,’ Witheroe said as he stopped at the counter. Charles explained.
‘I’ve not seen Mr Crowther for some time. How is he?’
Charles explained further.
‘You wish this lodged to current account, Mr Swinburn?’ the clerk interposed.
‘Yes, please; to current account.’ Charles turned to the manager and became more confidential. ‘I can do without that loan, after all, Witheroe,’ he said easily. ‘I’ve come to an arrangement with the old man. He’ll see me through. That’s a thousand to go on with, while we’re fixing up the details of a proper agreement.’
The lie slipped out automatically. The meaning of the little scene was only too clear. Charles was to have been refused any further cash. The teller had been afraid of an unpleasantness, and Witheroe had advanced to the support of his subordinate. The fact that Charles had come to lodge instead of to draw had made all the difference. To both men it was clearly a surprise, as gratifying as it was unexpected. Witheroe, however, passed it off as a trifle.
‘I’m glad you’ve arranged it,’ he said with a slightly overdone casualness. ‘I was sure you would. I wanted to see you, if you can spare me a moment, about this municipal-relief-work business. We were talking about it at lunch. Can you come to the office now, or would some other time suit you better?’
Charles agreed readily, though he would have taken his oath that no thought of the relief works had been in the manager’s mind when he approached the counter. However, they went through the form of discussing the matter, and presently Charles took his leave.
It had been a pretty near
Just as he was crossing the space between door and counter he met Stimpson, who had told at the club about Bender & Truesett’s reduced dividend. Stimpson was a small, aggressive man with a predilection for laying down the law. He loved the sound of his own voice, and never missed the chance of an argument. Charles at once saw himself buttonholed.
But Stimpson did not stop. Instead of coming forward with some extravagant statement, calculated to produce an outraged denial, he hesitated, appeared to avoid Charles’s eye and, murmuring something about the day not having turned out so badly, made as if to pass on.
The action was so barefaced that, in spite of his preoccupation, Charles could not fail to notice it. It aroused his surprise and resentment. He turned round.
‘Well, Stimpson,’ he said in a loudish voice, ‘anything interesting at the club to-day?’
The man had to stop in spite of himself. ‘You weren’t there, Swinburn?’ he mumbled.
‘I was lunching with the uncle.’
‘Mr Crowther? How is he keeping?’
‘Not so well as usual. Beginning to go down the hill, I’m afraid.’
‘He must be a pretty old man by now. Well, ’scuse me, Swinburn – Edwards is waiting for me at the office.’
The man was civil enough, but evidently uneasy, and in moving off he did not meet Charles’s eye. Charles was puzzled as well as annoyed. However, he controlled his feelings and moved up to the counter.
‘Good afternoon, Handcock,’ he greeted the teller. ‘Lovely day.’
‘Splendid, Mr Swinburn. Too hot, if anything.’
Charles wondered if he was getting super-sensitive. Was there in the clerk’s manner that same element of constraint which he had noticed in Stimpson’s? Certainly the man did not seem at ease, and Charles caught him eyeing the cheque which Charles had produced with evident anxiety.
But the moment he glanced at it his face cleared. Quite unmistakably also his manner changed. He smiled in a relieved way, and asked Charles how he thought next Saturday’s match would go. At the same time Charles thought he saw him make a kind of signal to someone at his, Charles’s, back. In a leisurely way Charles changed his position, and glanced behind him. Witheroe was there, apparently just approaching.
‘Missed you from lunch to-day,’ Witheroe said as he stopped at the counter. Charles explained.
‘I’ve not seen Mr Crowther for some time. How is he?’
Charles explained further.
‘You wish this lodged to current account, Mr Swinburn?’ the clerk interposed.
‘Yes, please; to current account.’ Charles turned to the manager and became more confidential. ‘I can do without that loan, after all, Witheroe,’ he said easily. ‘I’ve come to an arrangement with the old man. He’ll see me through. That’s a thousand to go on with, while we’re fixing up the details of a proper agreement.’
The lie slipped out automatically. The meaning of the little scene was only too clear. Charles was to have been refused any further cash. The teller had been afraid of an unpleasantness, and Witheroe had advanced to the support of his subordinate. The fact that Charles had come to lodge instead of to draw had made all the difference. To both men it was clearly a surprise, as gratifying as it was unexpected. Witheroe, however, passed it off as a trifle.
‘I’m glad you’ve arranged it,’ he said with a slightly overdone casualness. ‘I was sure you would. I wanted to see you, if you can spare me a moment, about this municipal-relief-work business. We were talking about it at lunch. Can you come to the office now, or would some other time suit you better?’
Charles agreed readily, though he would have taken his oath that no thought of the relief works had been in the manager’s mind when he approached the counter. However, they went through the form of discussing the matter, and presently Charles took his leave.
It had been a pretty near
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