Mr. Spence turned on him a look in which impatience was faintly tinged with apprehension. “What else is there? It’s two and a half minutes to eight.”
Millner stood his ground. “It won’t take longer than that. I want to tell you that, if you can conveniently replace me, I’d like—there are reasons why I shall have to leave you.”
Millner was conscious of reddening as he spoke. His redness deepened under Mr. Spence’s dispassionate scrutiny. He saw at once that the banker was not surprised at his announcement.
“Well, I suppose that’s natural enough. You’ll want to make a start for yourself now. Only, of course, for the sake of appearances—”
“Oh, certainly,” Millner hastily agreed.
“Well, then: is that all?” Mr. Spence repeated.
“Nearly.” Millner paused, as if in search of an appropriate formula. But after a moment he gave up the search, and pulled from his pocket an envelope which he held out to his employer. “I merely want to give this back.”
The hand which Mr. Spence had extended dropped to his side, and his sand-coloured face grew chalky. “Give it back?” His voice was as thick as Millner’s. “What’s happened? Is the bargain off?”
“Oh, no. I’ve given you my word.”
“Your word?” Mr. Spence lowered at him. “I’d like to know what that’s worth!”