"You can show him up at once," he ordered; "now, and whenever he calls."
Fardell appeared almost directly. Mannering had seen him before during the day, but noticed at once a change in him. He was pale, and looked like a man who had received some sort of a shock.
"Come in, Fardell, and sit down," Mannering said. "You look tired. Have a drink."
Fardell walked straight to the tray and helped himself to some neat whiskey.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I—I've had rather a knockout blow."
He emptied the tumbler and set it down.
"Mr. Mannering, sir," he said, "I've just heard a man bet twenty to one in crisp five-pound bank-notes that you never sit for West Leeds."
"Was he drunk or sober?" Mannering asked.
"Sober as a judge!"
Mannering smiled.