"Dose are my instrugtions," said the man behind the pigeon-hole.
"I see."
Lucas stood upright, the uncompleted cheque in his fingers. All surprise and excitement had vanished from his regard; he seemed taller and stronger than he had been a minute before. He had yet many calls to make, and, in the nature of things, many rebuffs to receive, before he went home to supper; and the money in his pocket totaled seventy-five cents. He needed new boots, new clothes, leisure, consideration, and a sight of his native land; in short, he needed fifty thousand dollars.
"You will cash this because I didn't fail to respect a helpless woman?" he asked, in level tones.
The whiskered cashier replied: "Yes. Because you gave up your room and kept watch on de stairs."
Lucas laughed gently. "That is not the way to deal with a gentleman," he said. "I will make your firm a present of fifty thousand dollars."
He showed the cheque he had written, with the figures clear and large. And then, with leisurely motions, he tore it across and again across.
"Much obliged," said Robert H. Lucas, and made for the door.