“Was that how Torrance gave ye the money? Be very sure now!—Three fives and twelve singles? Eh?”
“I’m perfectly sure,” she returned impatiently. “The notes must have stuck. How much do you make me short?”
She took them out and laid them on the counter. There was a short silence broken only by the rustle of the paper and the ticking of the clock.
Suddenly she raised her head and looked him straight in the eyes, without a word.
He stood her gaze for a brief space, then turned it to the notes. His fist banged the counter.
“Five pound short—a five-pound note—where is it?”
Still she stared at him silent.
“Can ye no answer?” he snarled at last.
She answered with an odd, slow smile. It maddened him. He strode across to the passage and shouted for his sister.