He turned again to the table, sat down, searched for his keys, unlocked and drew out a drawer, took from it a cheque-book, and settled himself to write with deliberation, thinking all the time. When he had done—“Have the goodness to come and fetch your money,” he said tartly.
“With pleasure!” answered Richard, and went up to the table.
Sir Wilton turned on his seat, and looked him in the face, full in the eyes. Richard steadily encountered his gaze.
“What is your name?” said sir Wilton at length. “I must make the cheque payable to you!”
“Richard Tuke, sir,” answered Richard.
“What are you?”
“A bookbinder. I was here all the summer, sir, repairing your library.”
“Oh! bless my soul!—Yes! that's what it was! I thought I had seen you somewhere! Why didn't you tell me so at first?”
“It had nothing to do with my coming now, and I did not imagine it of any interest to you, sir.”
“It would have saved me the trouble of trying to remember where I had seen you!”