After his departure, John Girdlestone spent an hour in anxious thought, arranging the details of the scheme which he had just submitted to his son.  As he sat, his eye chanced to fall upon the two letters lying on his desk, and it struck him that they had better be attended to.  It did not suit his plans to fall back upon his credit just yet.  It has been already shown that he was a man of ready resource.  He rang the bell and summoned his senior clerk.

“Good morning, John,” he said affably.

“Good morning, Mr. Girdlestone, good morning, sir,” said wizened little John Gilray, rubbing his thin yellow hands together, as a sign of his gratification.

“I hear, John, that you have come into a legacy lately,” Mr. Girdlestone said.

“Yes, sir.  Fifteen hundred pounds, sir.  Less legacy duty and incidental expenses, fourteen hundred and twenty-eight six and fourpence.  My wife’s brother Andrew left it, sir, and a very handsome legacy too.”

John Girdlestone smiled with the indulgent smile of one to whom such a sum was absolutely nothing.

“What have you done with the money, then, John?” he asked carelessly.

“Banked it, sir, in the United Metropolitan.”

“In the United Metropolitan, John?  Let me see.  Their present rate of interest is three and a half?”

“Three, sir,” said John.

“Three!  Dear me, John, that is poor interest, very poor indeed.  It is most fortunate that I made these inquiries.  I was on the point of drawing fourteen hundred pounds from one of my correspondents as a temporary convenience.  For this I should pay him five per cent.  I have no objection, John, as you are an old servant of the firm, to giving you the preference in this matter.  I cannot take more than fourteen hundred—­but I shall be happy to accommodate you up to that sum at the rate named.”

John Gilray was overwhelmed by this thoughtful and considerate act.  “It is really too generous and kind, sir,” he said.  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, John,” the senior partner said grandly.  “The firm is always glad to advance the interests of its employees in any reasonable manner.  Have you your cheque-book with you?  Fill it up for fourteen hundred.  No more, John; I cannot oblige you by taking any more.”

The head clerk having made out his cheque for the amount, and having signed his name to it in a cramped little quaint handwriting, which reminded one of his person, was duly presented with a receipt and dismissed to his counting-house.  There he entertained the other clerks by a glowing description of the magnanimity of his employer.

John Girdlestone took some sheets of blue official paper from a drawer, and his quill pen travelled furiously over them with many a screech and splutter.

“Sir,” he said to the bank manager, “I enclose fourteen hundred pounds, which represents the loose cash about the office.  I shall make a heavy deposit presently.  In the meantime, you will, of course, honour anything that may be presented.—­Yours truly, JOHN GIRDLESTONE.”