He had a girl-wife from whose cheeks the roses were slowly
fading, and very soon would come a time when a bank-note, even the
smallest, would be a priceless gift. It was for her sake he had
spoken. He saw now that he had made a mistake.
"I am very sorry, sir," he said humbly. "Of course I know that
these men have paid an immense sum for their shares in the Bekwando
Syndicate. At the same time it is not my business, and I am sorry
that I spoke."
"It is not your business at any time to remember what I receive for
properties," Scarlett Trent said roughly. "Haven't I told you that
before? What did I say when you came to me? You were to hear
nothing and see nothing outside your duties! Speak up, man! Don't
stand there like a jay!"
The clerk was pale, and there was an odd sensation in his throat.
But he thought of his girl-wife and he pulled himself together.
"You are quite right, sir," he said. "To any one else I should
never have mentioned it. But we were alone, and I thought that the
circumstances might make it excusable."
His employer grunted in an ominous manner.
"When I say forget, I mean forget," he declared. "I don't want to
be reminded by you of my own business. D'ye think I don't know it?"
"I am very sure that you do, sir," the clerk answered humbly.
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