Bundercombe. We went
into the office; Giatron himself placed three glasses upon the desk and
produced from a cupboard a bottle of what appeared to be very superior
brandy. Mr. Bundercombe sipped his with relish. Then he glanced at the
closed door.
"Mr. Giatron," he began, "I have been having a chat with Louis. He has
told me of his troubles--told me the reason for his leaving Luigi and
accepting this post with you."
Giatron paused, with the bottle suspended in mid-air. He slowly set it
down. A frown appeared on his face.
"Mind you," Mr. Bundercombe continued, "I am not sympathizing with Louis.
If what he said is true I am inclined to think you have been very
merciful."
Giatron recovered his confidence.
"He tried--Louis tried--my old friend," he complained, "to take advantage
of me; to enrich himself at my expense by means of a false note."
"That is the only point," Mr. Bundercombe said.
"Was the note bad? Do you know I can scarcely bring myself to believe it!"
The restaurant keeper smiled. Very deliberately he produced a great bunch
of keys from his pocket and opened the safe, which stood in a corner of
the office. Mr. Bundercombe whispered a scarcely audible word in my ear
and became absorbed once more in the brandy.
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