“I don’t know,” said I; “I was, but he told me—”
“He told you he didn’t want a cad like you hanging about his place. All very well—that doesn’t follow I’m his fag as well as Crofter’s. Here, catch hold; you’ve got to take this to Crofter. I’m not going to take it—it means a licking most likely, and I don’t see why I’m to be let in for it.”
He handed me an envelope, evidently containing coin, addressed “Crofter,” in Tempest’s well-known writing.
I did not relish the commission, for I had my guess as to the contents of the missive. Curiosity, however, prompted me to take it and proceed to Crofter’s study.
“Well, youngster,” said Crofter, “turned up again? Have you seen Tempest yet?”
“Yes—he sent this,” said I.
Crofter took the envelope and opened it. Five sovereigns and a half-sovereign dropped out on the table. No letter accompanied the money, but its meaning was clear enough. Crofter’s brow contracted, and his habitual smile deserted him for once.
“What is this? Some mistake,” said he.
“It’s what he owes you,” suggested I.
“I suppose so; but that was only £4 17 shillings 6 pence.”