"I'd gone down like a stone," said the dandy. "It was only the house's hurry to get me to Brest, with those papers for Lafargue, that saved me."
"I remember you mentioned some papers," said Anthony, "but I forget what you said they were."
Whitaker took on the same resentful look he'd worn when he first spoke of the matter at Dr. King's.
"I never knew," said he. "Devil of a way, wasn't it? sending me pelting off like that, and never knowing what it was about. I felt like a fool! And that old Lafargue's a close-mouthed gentleman, I can tell you. No danger of any one ever worming anything out of him."
"You thought yourself badly treated, then?" said Anthony.
"Candidly, I did."
"Have you ever said so, here in the counting-house, to any one in authority?"
"Yes, once in a conversation with Mr. Weir I saw an opportunity to mention the matter, and did so. Mr. Weir is always considerate and listened to what I had to say. Then he told me I'd better speak to Mr. Stevens. But, you know, Mr. Stevens seldom bothers about things like that; so I took the thing no further. I have no doubt, though, that I was treated like a junior clerk; for whatever the word was I took to Lafargue it made a particular stir in his place of business."
"Did you ask no questions, then?"
"You may be sure I did. But no one answered them. It was quite mortifying."