He went into the place where they take the money, and said, “Please can I have a few moments’ conversation with Mr. Leighton, on a private matter?”
The people in the pay-box stared at him, and said, “Stage door.”
“Thank you,” said the clergyman. And, seeing a door, he went through it, and up a flight of stairs.
“Your check, sir,” said the man at the top of the stairs.
“What?” said the clergyman.
“Your check,” said the man; “you’ve got a check, haven’t you?”
“I have a cheque-book,” said the clergyman, “but not with me. What, my good friend, do you want with a cheque from me?”
The man looked at him as if he was something curious, and said, “A voucher; you have a voucher, haven’t you?”
The clergyman thought perhaps they were very particular whom they admitted behind the scenes, and he thought that was very proper, so he said, “I have not a personal voucher with me, but there is my card. I am a clergyman, and well known in the district.”
“Can’t pass your card, sir,” said the man politely; “you’d better see the manager.”