"That's done," said Collins; and he called to the bank clerk, who had been patiently waiting in a corner of the room. "Mr. Fielding will go back with you. This document is to be put away with Mr. Bence's papers. My compliments to the manager. He knows all about it."
"But," said Marsden, "doesn't Mr. Bence sign it?"
"It isn't necessary," said Collins.
"Are you sure?" And Marsden looked at Bence suspiciously.
"He can sign it at his convenience," said Collins, "if he ever wishes to do so.... Run along, young fellows. My compliments to the manager;" and he addressed Marsden with extreme facetiousness. "We pay on this—so you can be quite sure we are not deceiving you. The money talks. You can take it whenever you please.... Ah! I see—you're not slow about that."
And in fact, without waiting for Mr. Collins to conclude his invitation, Marsden had pushed aside the ink-stand and picked up the notes. One bundle he unceremoniously thrust into the breast pocket of his coat; and now with a licked finger he was separating the edges of the other bundle.
"Stop," said Mr. Prentice. "What are you doing? Allow me, please;" and he held out his hand. "I will attend to this."
Marsden, without surrendering the notes, explained matters in a confidential whisper.
"Fifteen hundred goes to her, and the rest to me."
"Indeed it doesn't," said Prentice warmly.