I've drained
Nice dry--like a sucked orange. Got all the fun I can out of it.
Now I'm away again to my beloved Italy."
But it struck me as odd that, if Italy was her game, she went by the
omnibus which takes down to the train de luxe for Paris. However,
a man of the world accepts what a lady tells him, no matter how
improbable; and I confess, for ten days or so, I thought no more
about her, or the Seer either.
At the end of that time our fortnightly pass-book came in from
the bank in London. It is part of my duty, as the millionaire's
secretary, to make up this book once a fortnight, and to compare
the cancelled cheques with Sir Charles's counterfoils. On this
particular occasion I happened to observe what I can only describe
as a very grave discrepancy,--in fact, a discrepancy of 5000 pounds.
On the wrong side, too. Sir Charles was debited with 5000 pounds
more than the total amount that was shown on the counterfoils.
I examined the book with care. The source of the error was obvious.
It lay in a cheque to Self or Bearer, for 5000 pounds, signed by Sir
Charles, and evidently paid across the counter in London, as it bore
on its face no stamp or indication of any other office.
I called in my brother-in-law from the salon to the study. "Look
here, Charles," I said, "there's a cheque in the book which you
haven't entered.
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