It was nearly seven now, and Miss Perkins was due in half an hour. The head clerk had intended to take advantage of the comfortable legacy left him by setting up an establishment of his own. It had been his intention to fix the wedding day the week before, and thus bring to a close his forty years of bachelorhood; but he had put it off; under the circumstances he was uncertain how to act.
The cause of the disquiet was the pecuniary demands of George Early, who had developed a habit of borrowing that had become alarming. The first half-crown had lengthened into five shillings, which in turn became ten; the previous day had seen a rise to a sovereign. Parrott had remonstrated, but remonstrance was lost upon the imperturbable George, who remarked that it was only out of kindness he had been persuaded to cut the sum so low. He said that he hoped the small loan would not be refused, as it would give him pain to have to report the matter to the lawyers, who evidently wanted rousing up. He then pointed out to Parrott that he was really doing him a service, by helping him to break his beastly habit of meanness.
"I could get him the sack," thought the head clerk. "That would be one way to get rid of him."
He strangled the idea a moment afterwards. George Early out of work would be an even greater danger. He thought out various plans of bribery, intimidation, kidnapping, and even garrotting, but none of these suggested a possible solution. In the midst of his meditations the front-door bell rang.
"That's Lucy," said the head clerk, rising and smoothing down his hair before the glass. "I mustn't say anything to-night. It'll have to be postponed till I can be sure the money is my own."
He brushed a speck off his well-preserved dress-suit and flicked over his shoes. Then he stirred the fire and went to meet his fiancée.
As he opened the door a well-known voice caught his ear. It was not Lucy's; it was a man's voice. He knew it well; it was George Early's voice.
"Damn him!" said Parrott, savagely. "What the deuce does he want now? I'll wring his neck if he tries to borrow more money already!"
George was speaking most affably to Mrs. Carey.
"I'll just tell Mr. Parrott that you're here," said the fussy old lady.