A client of
yours, eh? Well, he'll lost it I expect, and serve him right for his
pains. But I am not sorry, for it is unpleasant for a house like ours
to have to sell an old client up. Not that his account is worth much,
nothing at all--more trouble than profit--or we should not have done
it. He's no better than a bankrupt and the insolvency court is the
best place for him. The world is to the rich and the fulness thereof.
There's an insolvency court especially provided for de la Molle and
his like--empty old windbags with long sounding names; let him go
there and make room for the men who have made money--hee! hee! hee!"
And once more his voice went off into a sort of scream.
Here Mr. Quest, who had enjoyed about enough of this kind of thing,
changed the conversation by beginning to comment on various business
transactions which he had been conducting on behalf of the house. The
old man listened with the greatest interest, his keen black eyes
attentively fixed upon the speaker's face, till at last Mr. Quest
happened to mention that amongst others a certain Colonel Quaritch had
opened an account with their branch of the bank.
"Quaritch?" said the old man eagerly, "I know that name. Was he ever
in the 105th Foot?"
"Yes," said Mr. Quest, who knew everything about everybody, "he was an
ensign in that regiment during the Indian Mutiny, where he was badly
wounded when still quite young, and got the Victoria Cross.
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