“No, that is not necessary; you can take the book away.”
“And so you never paid my son Henry that thousand pounds?” interrogated the General, after the clerk had gone out.
“Never—not a thousand pence; no money of any kind, as you see by the memoranda. He never asked for any. Of course, if he had done so, I should have been obliged to refuse him until I received your order. A thousand pounds, General, is too large a sum to be handed over to a young man—a minor, as your son then was—simply at his own request.”
“But, Mr Lawson, you astonish me still more. Do you mean to tell me you never received any letter authorising you to give him a cheque for that amount?”
“Never heard of such a letter. Never, until this moment.”
“Damme, this is strange! He may be among the brigands, after all.”
“I should be sorry if it were so.”
“And I should be glad of it.”
“Oh! General?”
“No, Lawson; you don’t understand me. I’d be glad of it for a good reason. It would prove that the boy might not be so bad, after all. I thought he had spent the thousand pounds. Is it possible there can be any truth in this letter from Rome? Damme, I hope it is true—every word of it!”