“Papa has been talking about the Chisholm property. The money is paid over, and he has brought it here for safety.”
“Brought it to-night?” echoed George.
“Yes. He said it might be an unprofessional mode of doing business, but he supposed you would receive it,” she added, laughing.
“How much is it?” cried George—all too eagerly, had Maria not been unsuspicious.
“Nine—let me see—yes, I think he said nine thousand pounds.”
George Godolphin closed the books before him, more than one of which was open, locked them up, put out the lamp, and accompanied his wife to the dining-room.
“Will you let me lodge some money here to-night?” asked Mr. Hastings, as he shook hands.
“As much as you like,” replied George, gaily. “We can accommodate an unlimited amount.”
The Rector took out a large pocket-book, and counted down some bank-notes upon the table. “Brierly, the agent, brought it to me an hour ago,” he observed, “and I had rather your Bank had charge of it than my house. Nine thousand and forty-five pounds, Mr. George.”
George counted the notes after Mr. Hastings. “I wonder Brierly did not give a cheque for it,” he observed. “Did he bring the money over from Binham?”