‘Quite sure!’ he replied. ‘But surely you have had your pass-book?’
Lucian had dim notions that a small book bound in parchment had upon occasions been handed to him over the counter of the bank, and on others had been posted by him to the bank at some clerk’s request; he also remembered that he had once opened it and found it full of figures, at the sight of which he had hastily closed it again.
‘I suppose I have,’ he answered.
‘I believe it is in our possession just now,’ said the manager. ‘If you will excuse me one moment I will fetch it.’
He came back with the pass-book in his hand and offered it to Lucian.
‘It is posted up to date,’ he said.
Lucian took the book and turned its pages over.
‘Yes, but—’ he said. ‘I—do I understand that all the money that has been paid in to my account here is now spent? You have received royalties on my behalf from Mr. Robertson and from Mr. Harcourt of the Athenæum?’
‘You will find them all specified in the pass-book, Mr. Damerel,’ said the manager. ‘There will, I presume, be further payments to come from the same sources?’
‘Of course there will be the royalties from Mr. Robertson every half-year,’ answered Lucian, turning the pages of his pass-book. ‘And Mr. Harcourt produces my new tragedy at the Athenæum in December.’