"Then send him round to the bank."
"My good fellow, I can write a cheque."
"No, I want five hundred-pound notes—new ones," said Ashley, with his first glimmer of a smile.
"Very well," said Bowdon. He went to the table, wrote a cheque, rang the bell, and, when his personal servant had been summoned, repeated Ashley's request. "Very good, my lord," said the man, and vanished. Bowdon lit a cigarette and resumed his seat.
"It's for—," Ashley began.
"As you like about that," said Bowdon. "Only why were they to be new hundred-pound notes?"
"In order to appeal to the imagination. I'm going to tell you about it."
"As long as it's because you want and not because I want, all right."
"I believe I'm going to do a damned rascally thing."
"Can't you keep it to yourself then?" asked Bowdon, with a plaintive intonation and a friendly look. "At present I've lent you five hundred. That's all! They can't hit me."