His packing finished, he went to the window, took out his pocketbook, and examined its contents. Three hundred and ten pounds, half in circular notes, half in notes of the Bank of England.
Then he took out a check-book and a stylograph pen, and wrote a check for five hundred, payable to himself.
Ten minutes later he was in a riksha making for the Bund, where he stopped at Holme & Ringers, the shipping agents, bought two first-class tickets for Vancouver, and changed his check, receiving part in cash, and part in a check upon the National Specie Bank of Yokohama.
It was now eleven o’clock, and he had practically completed his preparations. He had now to see Mac, and he turned his steps to the office, which was only a stone’s throw from the shipping agents. Mac was writing letters.
“Morning,” said he, glancing up, and seeming surprised to see his partner at that hour.
“What’s agate?”
“I am,” said Leslie, trying to assume a jovial manner. “I’m off for a holiday, and I want you to look after things same as you’ve done before.”
“This is sudden,” said Mac, going on with his correspondence without looking up.
“Oh, it’s never too sudden for a holiday. And see here, I’d better leave you some ready cash: here’s a check for two fifty. I want you to look after the bairn whilst I’m away.”
“Keep the money,” said Mac, “and pay me—when y’ come back. Ay, ay, it’ll be soon enough then—soon enough then.”