The Squire understood now. He turned tail and rushed into the house. And rushed against Mr. Brandon, who was coming in.
“Well, have you heard the news?” asked Mr. Brandon in his thinnest voice.
“I can’t believe it; I don’t believe it,” raved the Squire. “Clement-Pell would never be such a swindler. He owes me two hundred pounds.”
Mr. Brandon opened his little eyes. “Owes it you!”
“That day, last week, when he came driving in, in his smart cockle-shell carriage—when you were here, you know, Brandon. He got a cheque for two hundred pounds from me. A parcel of money that ought to have come over from the chief Bank had not arrived, he said, and the Church Dykely branch might be run close; would I let him have a cheque for two or three hundred pounds on the Bank at Alcester. I told him I did not believe I had anything like two hundred pounds lying at Alcester: but I drew a cheque out for that amount, and wrote a note telling the people there to cash it, and I would make it right.”
“And Pell drove straight off to Alcester then and there, and cashed the cheque?” said Mr. Brandon in his cynical way.
“He did. He had told me I should receive the money on the following day. It did not come, or on the Friday either; and on Saturday I went to Alcester, thinking he might have paid it in there.”
“Which of course he had not,” returned old Brandon. “Well, you must have been foolish, to be so taken-in.”
“Taken-in!” roared the Squire, in a passion. “Why, if he had asked me for two thousand pounds he might have had it—a man with the riches of Clement-Pell.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have got any from me. One who launched out as he did, and let his family launch out, I should never put much trust in. Any way, the riches are nowhere; and it is said Pell is nowhere too.”