“Tear out a cheque,” cried the other. “What on earth are you getting at—one of my cheques—this is good.”
“Tear out a cheque,” insisted the other, “it will only cost you a penny, and you will see my meaning in a moment.”
The animal, before the insistent direction of the other, hesitated, then with a laugh he tore out a cheque.
“Now place it on the table.”
Voles placed it on the table.
Jones going to the bureau fetched a pen and ink. He pushed a chair to the table, and made the other sit down.
“Now,” said Jones, “write me out a cheque for eight thousand pounds.”
Voles threw the pen down with a laugh—it was his last in that room.
“You won’t?” said Jones.