"Good morning, Mr. Northcote," he said, with some deference.
"Good morning," I returned. Then I paused. "I want to cash a cheque for eight thousand," I added. "Will my account stand it?"
He smiled. "As far as I know, Mr. Northcote. If you will excuse me, I will just consult the ledger and see how your balance stands. Of course it will be perfectly all right about the cheque in any case, but should you be overdrawing to any extent, perhaps you would prefer to see the Manager."
He departed to the back, returning a minute later with the gratifying information that there was precisely nine thousand one hundred and forty-eight pounds four shillings and sixpence to my credit.
I handed him Northcote's cheque, and without further discussion he opened a drawer and began to count out a pile of bank-notes.
"I am giving it to you in five-hundreds, Mr. Northcote," he observed. "Will that be convenient?"
"Quite," I said affably. It struck me as a most happy adjective to apply to five-hundred-pound banknotes.
As soon as I was outside again I took a deep breath. The sensation that one has the best part of ten thousand pounds in one's pocket is the most richly satisfying emotion I have ever experienced. A few days ago I had trod this very pavement with nothing but a fiver between me and bankruptcy, and now here I was a veritable, if somewhat precariously situated, Crœsus. I decided to celebrate my promotion by lunching at the Criterion.