‘I declare to heaven I never thought to count!’ I exclaimed. ‘But that is soon remedied.’
And I counted out ten notes of ten pound each, all in the name of Abraham Newlands, and five bills of country bankers for as many guineas.
‘One hundred and twenty six pound five,’ cried the old lady. ‘And you carry such a sum about you, and have not so much as counted it! If you are not a thief, you must allow you are very thief-like.’
‘And yet, madam, the money is legitimately mine,’ said I.
She took one of the bills and held it up. ‘Is there any probability, now, that this could be traced?’ she asked.
‘None, I should suppose; and if it were, it would be no matter,’ said I. ‘With your usual penetration, you guessed right. An Englishman brought it me. It reached me, through the hands of his English solicitor, from my great-uncle, the Comte de Kéroual de Saint-Yves, I believe the richest émigré in London.’
‘I can do no more than take your word for it,’ said she.
‘And I trust, madam, not less,’ said I.
‘Well,’ said she, ‘at this rate the matter may be feasible. I will cash one of these five-guinea bills, less the exchange, and give you silver and Scots notes to bear you as far as the border. Beyond that, Mosha the Viscount, you will have to depend upon yourself.’
I could not but express a civil hesitation as to whether the amount would suffice, in my case, for so long a journey.