‘I was carried away to the Bank of England and could not help myself,’ said Melmotte.  ’And when they get me there I can never get away again.’

‘My son is very anxious to have the payments made about Pickering,’ said Mr Longestaffe, absolutely holding Melmotte by the collar of his coat.

‘Payments for Pickering!’ said Melmotte, assuming an air of unimportant doubt,—­of doubt as though the thing were of no real moment.  ‘Haven’t they been made?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Mr Longestaffe, ‘unless made this morning.’

’There was something about it, but I cannot just remember what.  My second cashier, Mr Smith, manages all my private affairs, and they go clean out of my head.  I’m afraid he’s in Grosvenor...