He straightened himself when Rodd’s step was heard in the passage, and he rose to take the last slip from the cashier’s hand.
“Sit down, man, sit down,” he said. “Betty, give Rodd a cup of tea. He must need it. Well?” putting on his glasses to consult the slip.
“We’ve paid out thirteen thousand two hundred and ten, sir.”
“Through one pair of hands! Well done! A fine feat, Rodd, and I shall not forget it. Umph!” thoughtfully, “that is just about what we expected. Neither much better nor much worse. What we did not expect—but sit down and drink your tea, man. Betty!”
“Yes, father.”
“Pass the toast to him. He deserves all we can do for him. What we did not expect,” reverting to the slip with a wrinkled brow, “were the payments in. Four hundred and seventy odd! I don’t understand that. No other sign of returning credit, Rodd? Was it some one we’ve obliged? Very unlikely, for long memories are rare at such times as these. Who was it?”
Rodd was busy with his toast. Betty had passed it to him with a polite smile. “There were two, sir, I think,” he said. He spoke as if he were not quite certain.
The banker looked up in surprise. “Think!” he said. “Why, you must know.”
“Well, there were two, sir, I am sure. But paying out all day——”
“You’d remember who paid in, I should think. When there were but two. You must remember who they were.”