“I quite understand your dislike to selling,” he said. “Thank you for leaving it here for the present to see us through the flotation,” and he laughed.
At that moment Jeffreys entered the room with the documents. Sir Robert handed the deed of partnership to Alan, and when he had identified it, took it from him again and threw it on the fire, saying that of course the formal letter of release would be posted and the dissolution notified in the Gazette. Then the transfer was signed and the cheque delivered.
“Well, good-bye till Saturday,” said Alan when he had received the latter, and nodding, to them both, he turned and left the room.
The passage ran past the little room in which Mr. Jeffreys, the head clerk, sat alone. Catching sight of him through the open door, Alan entered, shutting it behind him. Finding his key ring he removed from it the keys of his desk and of the office strongroom, and handed them to the clerk who, methodical in everything, proceeded to write a formal receipt.
“You are leaving us, Major Vernon?” he said interrogatively as he signed the paper.
“Yes, Jeffreys,” answered Alan, then prompted by some impulse, added, “Are you sorry?”
Mr. Jeffreys looked up and there were traces of unwonted emotion upon his hard, regulated face.
“For myself, yes, Major—for you, on the whole, no.”
“What do you mean, Jeffreys? I do not quite understand.”
“I mean, Major, that I am sorry because you have never tried to shuffle off any shady business on to my back and leave me to bear the brunt of it; also because you have always treated me as a gentleman should, not as a machine to be used until a better can be found, and kicked aside when it goes out of order.”