‘Rather, governor. I shall take a hansom to the bank.’
‘Well, then, I wish you’d get me a cheque-book for home, and take it back with you. I haven’t a cheque in the house.’
‘All right, governor,’ answered Reginald.
Mr. Limpet handed his son an order on his bank for a chequebook, shook hands with him, and returned to smooth the ruffled Grigg.
At the bank Mr. Reginald Limpet received £20 in gold and a cheque-book. He stowed the gold in his pockct, but the chequebook was not such an easy matter. Wherever he put it it disarranged the set of something. At last, after several vain attempts to dispose of it artistically, Mr. Limpet, junior, decided that it must go in his coat-tail pocket, and if it bulged out behind it must.
Into the tail-pocket of his faultless frock-coat went the cheque-book, and the young man, jumping into a hansom, ordered the driver to take him to the Junior Corinthian. The Junior Corinthian was Mr. Limpet’s club.
He stayed at the club for an hour, and then strolled up New Bond Street
Now, when Mr. Limpet, junior, went into the bank in the City, two gentlemen were intensely interested in his movements. One of them followed him in, and heard him ask for a chequebook on Grigg & Limpet’s account.
This gentleman was a dark man, with a hook nose; the other was a thin, wiry-looking youth of about eighteen, with a cunning-looking face, and cross eyes that seemed for ever on the watch round the corners. This young gentleman was dressed in a neat grey suit, and looked a clerk as far as his top waistcoat button; beyond that he looked like a billiard marker or a sporting gent., for the gayness of his necktie and the curliness of the brim of his billycock would have shocked a City man dreadfully.
The dark gentleman with the hook nose came out directly and began talking to him. When a policeman came by, the dark man asked him if the blue omnibuses passed there.