insisted on his reading it. He's impressed. Never thought I had it in
me. Can't see, however, where the commercial value of it comes in."

"Wait till you show him your first thumping cheque," sympathised my
wife.

"I'm going to," he exclaimed boyishly. "I might have done it this
afternoon. Wittekind was off his head with delight and if I had asked
him to give me a bogus cheque for ten thousand to show to old man
Jornicroft, he would have written it without a murmur."

"How much did he really write a cheque for this afternoon?" I asked,
knowing (as I have said before) my Adrian.

Barbara looked shocked. "Hilary!" she remonstrated.

But Adrian laughed in high good humour. "He gave me a hundred pounds on
account."

"That won't impress Mr. Jornicroft at all," said I.

"It impressed my tailor, who cashed it, deducting a quarter of his
bill."

"Do you mean to say, my dear Adrian," I questioned, "that you went to
your tailor with a cheque for a hundred pounds and said, 'I want to pay
you a quarter of what I owe you, will you give me change?'"

"Of course."