"All right. You don't mind a cheque?"
"A cheque, Monsieur?"
"Yes, on the bank here. We haven't so much money in the house."
The little man hesitated. Nervously the big brown eyes turned from me to fall upon his possessions….
"That's all right," said Berry. "The bank's still open. Fitch can run up in the car and get the money. He's probably had a dud cheque some time or other. Anyway, considering he knows nothing of us, and Sally's out of reach, I don't blame him."
Such a way out of the difficulty was unanimously approved, and when I communicated our intention to Planchet, the latter seemed greatly relieved. It was not, he explained volubly, that he did not trust us, but when a poor sailor produced such a cheque to a bank….
As Berry left to give the chauffeur his instructions—
"Last time you came," said Daphne, "you brought a beautiful shawl.
Mrs. Featherstone bought it."
Planchet frowned thoughtfully. Then his face lighted with recollection.
"Perfectly, Madame. I remember it. It was very fine. I have another like it at home."