The chief accountant was a tall old gentleman, and he stood in a commanding position on the hearth-rug, the letter in one hand and a pair of double eye-glasses in the other.
"You will see from what I am about to read to you, Mr. Bunker," he began, "that your services, such as they were, to the late Mr. Messenger will not go unrewarded."
Very good, so far; but what had his reward to do with his nephew?
"You were a good deal with Mr. Messenger at one time, I remember, Mr. Bunker."
"I was, a great deal."
"Quite so—quite so—and you assisted him, I believe, with his house property and tenants, and so forth."
"I did." Mr. Bunker cleared his throat. "I did, and often Mr. Messenger would talk of the reward I was to have when he was took."
"He left you nothing, however, possibly because he forgot. You ought, therefore, to be the more grateful to Miss Messenger for remembering you; particularly as the young lady has only heard of you by some kind of chance."
"Has she—has she—sent something?" he asked.
The chief accountant smiled graciously.