If this bald statement required elucidation or expansion, its proponent didn't seem to realize the fact. He contemplated with minute scrutiny a fly which at that moment was alighting (in about the proportion of the great American eagle) upon the pained countenance of Old Lame-Boy.
"Well?" queried the other, adding to himself, "What the devil ails the man!"
The scrutinized fly rose, after the manner of its kind, and (now reduced to normal scale) touched lightly in its exploratory tour upon Dr. Surtaine's domed forehead. Following it thus far, the visitor's gaze rested. Dr. Surtaine brushed off the insect. He could not brush off the regard. Under it and his caller's continued silence he grew fidgety.
"While I'm very glad," he suggested, "to give you what time you need—"
"I've come here because I wanted to have this thing out with you face to face."
"Well, have it out," returned the other, smiling but wary.
The young clergyman drew from his pocket a folded newspaper page to which was pinned an oblong of paper. This he detached and extended to the other.
"What's that?" asked the doctor, making no motion to receive it, for he instantly recognized it.
"Your check."
"You're returning it?"