Felix smiled. “You went to see, then?” he asked.
“I took the liberty,” Mr. Sabin answered, “of stopping payment of it.”
“It will never be presented,” Felix said “I tore it into pieces directly I left you.”
Mr. Sabin nodded.
“Quixotic,” he murmured.
The express was rushing on through the night. Mr. Sabin thrust his hand into his bag and took out a handful of cigars. He offered one to Felix, who accepted, and lit it with the air of a man enjoying the reasonable civility of a chance fellow passenger.
“You had, I presume,” Mr. Sabin remarked, “some object in coming to see the last of me? I do not wish to seem unduly inquisitive, but I feel a little natural interest, or shall we say curiosity as to the reason for this courtesy on your part?”
“You are quite correct,” Felix answered. “I am here with a purpose. I am the bearer of a message to you.”
“May I ask, a friendly message, or otherwise?”
His fingers were tightening upon the little hard substance in his pocket, but he was already beginning to doubt whether after all Felix had come as an enemy.