‘At present,’ answered Darlington, ‘you are to run away as quickly as possible, for I’m over the ears in work. Come in this afternoon at three o’clock, and we will settle the whole thing.’
Lucian went out into the crowded streets, light-hearted and joyous as ever. The slight depression of the morning had worn off; all the world was gold again. A whim seized him: he would spend the three hours between twelve and three in wandering about the city—it was an almost unknown region to him. He had read much of it, but rarely seen it, and the prospect of an acquaintance with it was alluring. So he wandered hither and thither, his taste for the antique leading him into many a quaint old court and quiet alley, and he was fortunate enough to find an old-fashioned tavern and an old-world waiter, and there he lunched and enjoyed himself and went back to Darlington’s office in excellent spirits and ready to do anything.
There was little to do. Lucian left the private banking establishment of Darlington and Darlington a few minutes after he had entered it, and he then carried with him two cheque-books, one for himself and one for Haidee, and a request that Mrs. Damerel should call at the office and append her signature to the book wherein the autographs of customers were preserved. He went home and found Haidee just returned from lunching with Lady Firmanence: Lucian conducted her into his study with some importance.
‘Look here, Haidee,’ he said, ‘I’ve been making some new business arrangements. We’re going to bank at Darlington’s in future—it’s much the wiser plan; and you are to have a separate account. That’s your cheque-book. I say—we’ve rather gone it lately, you know. Don’t you think we might economise a little?’
Haidee stared, grew perplexed, and frowned.
‘I think I’m awfully careful,’ she said. ‘If you think——’
Lucian saw signs of trouble and hastened to dispel them.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said hurriedly, ‘I know, of course, that you are. We’ve had such a lot of absolutely necessary expense, haven’t we? Well, there’s your cheque-book, and the account is your own, you know.’
Haidee asked no questions, and carried the cheque-book away. When she had gone, Lucian wrote out a cheque for £187, 10s. and forwarded it to his former bankers, with a covering letter in which he explained that it was intended to balance his account and that he wished to close the latter. That done, he put all thoughts of money out of his mind with a mighty sigh of relief. In his own opinion he had accomplished a hard day’s work and acquitted himself with great credit. Everything, he thought, had been quite simple, quite easy. And in thinking so he was right—nothing simpler, nothing easier, could be imagined than the operation which had put Lucian and Haidee in funds once more. It had simply consisted of a brief order, given by Eustace Darlington to his manager, to the effect that all cheques bearing the signatures of Mr. and Mrs. Damerel were to be honoured on presentation, and that there was to be no limit to their credit.