The old ruffian raised a stubby finger. "Purdy, a cheque for a thousand dollars, to the order of Bianca Paliser, is to be mailed to this lady to-night."
"But, Mr. Dunwoodie!" Cassy exclaimed.
"You must allow me to be your banker," he told her, and turned again to the clerk. "Get Mr. Jeroloman. Say, with my compliments, I shall be obliged if he will look in here. And, Purdy, see to it that that cheque is attended to. Mrs. Paliser will give you her address."
"But, Mr. Dunwoodie!" Cassy exclaimed again, as the sallow youth went out.
To distract her attention, instantly Jones improvised a limerick. "There was a young man named Purdy, who was not what you'd call very sturdy. To be more of a sport, he drank gin by the quart, and danced on a hurdy-gurdy."
"You're insane," announced Cassy, who was a trifle demented herself.
Dunwoodie extracted his towel. "Jeroloman is the attorney for the other side. He will want to meet Mrs. Paliser, but that honour will not be his to-day."
Cassy stood up. "I should hope not. He would be the last camel on the straw—I mean the last straw on the camel."
Dunwoodie, rising also, gave her his fine bow and to Jones a hand.
Then as the two made for the door, from over her shoulder she smiled back at him.