Lord Ellersdeane turned sharply from the window, and Betty indulged in a cry of indignation.
"Dismissed—you?" she exclaimed. "Dismissed!"
"With a quarter's salary in lieu of notice," laughed Neale, slapping his pocket. "I've got it here—in gold."
"But—why?" asked Betty.
Neale shook his head at her.
"Because you told Joseph that I didn't believe them when they said that some of their securities were missing," he answered. "You did it! As soon as you'd gone, they had me in, told me that it was contrary to their principles to retain servants who took sides with other people against them, handed me a cheque, and told me to cash it forthwith and depart. And—here I am!"
"You don't seem to mind this very much, Mr. Neale," observed the Earl, looking keenly at this victim of summary treatment. "Do you?"
"If your lordship really wants to know," answered Neale, "I don't! I'm truly thankful. It's only what would have happened—in another way. I meant to leave Chestermarke's. If it hadn't been for Mr. Horbury, I should have left ages ago. I hate banking! I hated the life. And—I dislike Chestermarke's! Immensely! Now, I'll go and have a free life somewhere in Canada or some equally spacious clime—where I can breathe."
"Not at all!" said Betty decidedly. "You shall come and be my manager in London. The brewery wants one, badly. You shall have a handsome salary, Wallie—much more than you had at that beastly bank!"
"Very kind of you, I'm sure," laughed Neale. "But I think I'm inclined to put breweries in the same line with banks. Don't you be too rash, Betty—I'm not exactly cut out for commercialism. Not," he added reflectively, "not that I haven't been a very good servant to Chestermarke's. I have! But Chestermarkes are—what they are!"