Webster raised a deprecating hand.
“No, no, sir, thanking you exceedingly, I couldn’t really! You will need them, sir, and I assure you I have an ample supply.”
“Take my trousers,” repeated Mr. Bennett, “and feel in the right-hand pocket. There is some money there.”
“I’m sure I’m very much obliged, sir,” said Webster, beginning for the first time to feel that there was a bright side. He embarked upon the treasure-hunt. “The sum is sixteen pounds eleven shillings and threepence, sir.”
“Keep it!”
“Thank you very much, sir. Would there be anything further, sir?”
“Why, no,” said Mr. Bennett, feeling dissatisfied nevertheless. There had been a lack of the deepest kind of emotion in the interview, and his yearning soul resented it. “Why, no.”
“Good-night, sir.”
“Stop a moment. Which is Mr. Mortimer’s room?”
“Mr. Mortimer, senior, sir? It is at the further end of this passage, on the left facing the main staircase. Good-night, sir. I am extremely obliged. I will bring you your shaving-water when you ring.”