"Not till to-night, Mr. Wallace. When the stuff is handed over to you will be time enough."
"How about Mr. Dudgeon's money?"
"It's there, too."
"He's in town. Will you tell him?"
"Not a word, Mr. Wallace. You are the only people I mention it to; not even Brennan will be told about it till it's here."
"Well, you know more about these things than I do, so your word's law. But I shall be glad to let the head office know—I want to have the general manager's authority to do what I told you was going to be done."
Durham smiled in answer. So did he want the general manager to authorise what was to be the news he wished to give Mrs. Burke on the morrow. With five thousand pounds behind him he anticipated less difficulty in persuading her to postpone her intended return to Ireland, postpone it long enough, at all events, for her to go, not as Mrs. Burke, but as Mrs. Durham.
He stood at the door chatting to Wallace before going on to the station, when Dudgeon rattled past in his old buggy drawn by a borrowed horse.
He did not look towards the bank as he passed.
"If I told him I suppose he'd scowl at me and say, 'Oh, have you?'" Durham exclaimed as he watched the crazy old vehicle disappear along the road.