“Not even bonus,” said Mr Jabez.
“Not even bonus,” echoed Grimstone again.
“What’s he done with his money, that’s what I want to know?” said Mr Jabez.
“Wine—women—horse-racing—foolery! He’s been carrying on like mad, and what I suspect is this—Miss Carr begins to smell a rat, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if the wedding didn’t come off.”
Mr Jabez stared dolefully at Mr Grimstone, and the overseer kept on taking pinches of snuff till the box was empty; and, after searching round with finger and thumb, threw the box impatiently down.
“Well, I don’t see that we can do anything,” said Mr Jabez at last, “except wait.”
“No,” said Grimstone, “unless we can see the lady, and make her consent to pay us our 1,250 pounds.”
“And interest,” said Mr Jabez.
“And bonus,” said Grimstone, “down on the nail.”
“Which we can’t do,” said Mr Jabez, shaking his head.