“The purport? Why, what does one come to a banker about? I have got a lot of money I want to get rid of.”
Hardie stared, but was as much on his guard as ever; only more and more puzzled.
Then David winked at him with simple cunning, took out his knife, undid his shirt, and began to cut the threads which bound the Cash to his flannel.
At this Skinner wheeled round on his stool to look, and both he and Mr. Hardie inspected the unusual pantomime with demure curiosity.
Dodd next removed the oilskin cover, and showed the pocket-book, brought it down with a triumphant smack on the hollow of his hand, and, in the pride of his heart, the joy of his bosom and the fever of his blood—for there were two red spots on his cheek all the time—told the cold pair Its adventures in a few glowing words: the Calcutta firm—the two pirates—the hurricane—the wreck—the land-sharks—he had saved it from. “And here It is, safe in spite of them all. But I won't carry It on me any more: it is unlucky; so you must be so good as to take charge of It for me, sir.”
“Very well, Captain Dodd. You wish it placed to Mrs. Dodd's account, I suppose?”
“No! no! I have nothing to do with that: this is between you and me.”
“As you please.”
“Ye see it is a good lump, sir.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Hardie a little sneeringly.