“I will, with pleasure, ma’am. I am sorry to worry you at all about it at the present moment but you seem the best person to talk to, being, so to speak, not exactly one of the family.”
“Show me the cheque and don’t worrit me with my exact relations to the family,” said Mrs Shelf with dignity.
Dawson accordingly went to his private safe, which he unlocked, and taking out a ponderous banker’s book, produced the cheque; which Mrs Shelf immediately recognised as one which Mr Brooke had written in order to pay the half-yearly meat-bill. The cheque had been badly torn, and was fastened together at the back with some stamp-paper.
“They won’t take it; they are mighty particular about these things,” said Dawson. “It has been a loss to me, lying out of my money; but I wouldn’t worry the dear old gentleman when he was ill for three times the amount.”
“And you say that Miss Annie brought you this. Didn’t she bring you an account or anything with it?”
“Not she. She asked me if I would cash it for her. You see it was made payable to bearer, not to me myself. Is there anything wrong about it, Mrs Shelf?”
“Not the least bit in the world,” said the bewildered woman, trying to keep back a rash of words from her lips. “The master thought the world of our dear Miss Annie, and doubtless gave it to her the day after she returned from school; for she has a pretty, coaxing way; and you know well, Mr Dawson, that young things like our Annie want their bits of finery.”
“To be sure,” said Dawson. “I gave her the money without a thought.”
“But your bill—I was under the impression that your bill for the last six months was met.”
“Bless you, madam! you may rest easy about that. It was Miss Annie herself brought me the money and asked me to give her a receipt for the bill. She brought it two days later in five-pound notes. You have the receipt, haven’t you?”