“But then I suppose you're settled down in such infernally comfortable quarters,” continued the other, “that it's not likely you'll ever trouble us again. Married and done for—that's the word. Plenty of money, and nothing to do.”
“If you have anything particular to say,” said Dudleigh, coldly, “I should like to hear it; if not, I must excuse myself, as I am particularly engaged.”
“Oh, no offense, no offense; I merely came to offer an old friend's congratulations, you know, and—By-the-way,” continued Cruikshank, lowering his voice, “there's that little I O U of yours. I thought perhaps you might find it convenient to settle, and if so, it would be a great favor to me.”
“What is the amount?” asked Dudleigh, who remembered this particular debt perfectly well, since it had been the subject of more than one letter of a most unpleasant character.
“The amount?” said Cruikshank. “Well, really—let me see—I don't quite remember, but I'll find out in a moment.”
With these words he drew forth his pocket-book and fumbled among the papers. At length he produced one, and tried hard to look as if he had not known all along perfectly well what that amount was.
“Well, really—yes, this is it,” he remarked, as he looked at a piece of paper. “The amount, did you say? The amount is just two hundred pounds. It's not much for you, as you are now situated, I should suppose.”
“Is that the note?” asked Dudleigh, who was anxious to get rid of this visitor, and suspected all along that he might have a deeper purpose than the mere collection of a debt.
“That is the note,” said Cruikshank.
“I will pay it now,” said Dudleigh.