"Half an hour,
if you wish it. We always have leisure to receive our clients. Any
service we can render them, we're only too happy."
"But this is a very peculiar bit of business," Colonel Kelmscott
answered, humming and hawing with obvious hesitation. "It isn't
quite in the regular way of banking, I believe. Perhaps, indeed,
I ought rather to have put it into the hands of my solicitor. But,
even if you can't manage the thing yourself, you may be able to put
me in the way of finding out how best I can get it managed elsewhere."
The manager bowed. His smile was a smile of genuine satisfaction.
Colonel Kelmscott of Tilgate was in a most gracious humour.
The manager, with deference, held himself wholly at his client's
disposition.
So the Colonel proceeded to unfold his business. There were two
young men, now knocking about town, of the names of Guy and Cyril
Waring--the one a journalist, the other a painter--and they had rooms
in Staple Inn, Holborn, which would doubtless form a sufficient clue
by which to identify them. Colonel Kelmscott desired unobtrusively
to know where these young men banked--if indeed they were in a position
to keep an account; and when that was found out, he wished Messrs.
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