The clerk handed him the slip of paper.
It was a check on Coutts' for a large—a very large—sum, and it was signed "Eleanor Dallas."
"Eleanor!"
The name broke in a kind of sigh from Yorke's lips, and his face reddened. But it was pale again as he handed the check back to the clerk.
"Thank you," he said.
He stood and looked vacantly before him as if he had forgotten where he was; then he woke with a start.
"Then I can go?" he said.
"Certainly, my lord," said the clerk. "As I said, you are quite free. There are no actions against you now; everything is squared—paid."
Yorke thanked him again, wished him good-day, and got outside.
Everything paid—and by Eleanor!