“Of course. Now, then, give me a line to your banker to acknowledge my draft up to a certain limit,—say five hundred. I think five ought to do it.”
“It's a smart sum, Mr. Cutbill.”
“The article's cheap at the money. Well, well, I 'll not anger you. Write me the order, and let me be off.”
Bramleigh sat down at his table, and wrote off a short note to his junior partner in the bank, which he sealed and addressed; and handing it to Cutbill, said, “This will credit you to the amount you spoke of. It will be advanced to you as a loan without interest, to be repaid within two years.”
“All right; the thought of repayment will never spoil my night's rest. I only wish all my debts would give me as little trouble.”
“You ought to have none, Mr. Cutbill; a man of your abilities, at the top of a great profession, and with a reputation second to none, should, if he were commonly prudent, have ample means at his disposal.”
“But that's the thing I am not, Bramleigh. I 'm not one of your safe fellows. I drive my engine at speed, even where the line is shaky and the rails ill-laid. Good-bye; my respects to the ladies; tell Jack, if he 's in town within a week, to look me up at 'Limmer's.'” He emptied the sherry into a tumbler as he spoke, drank it off, and left the room.
CHAPTER XIX. A DEPARTURE.
Some days had gone over since the scene just recorded in our last chapter, and the house at Castello presented a very different aspect from its late show of movement and pleasure.