" He paused, then continued in a tone which, coming from him, meant
volumes: "Afterwards, I propose to cry quits with the concocter of this
pretty little hoax, even if it costs me every penny I possess. He shall
pay more for that five hundred pounds than he supposes."
II
The Duke of Datchet, coming out of the bank, lingered for a moment on the
steps. In one hand he carried a canvas bag which seemed well weighted. On
his countenance there was an expression which to a casual observer might
have suggested that his grace was not completely at his ease. That casual
observer happened to come strolling by. It took the form of Ivor Dacre.
Mr. Dacre looked the Duke of Datchet up and down in that languid way he
has. He perceived the canvas bag. Then he remarked, possibly intending to
be facetious:
"Been robbing the bank? Shall I call a cart?"
Nobody minds what Ivor Dacre says. Besides, he is the duke's own cousin.
Perhaps a little removed; still, there it is. So the duke smiled a sickly
smile, as if Mr. Dacre's delicate wit had given him a passing touch of
indigestion.
Mr. Dacre noticed that the duke looked sallow, so he gave his pretty sense
of humor another airing.
"Kitchen boiler burst? When I saw the duchess just now I wondered if it
had."
His grace distinctly started. He almost dropped the canvas bag.
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