Qualms he had, but not deep. If the bills were drawn by Imagination,
accepted by Fancy, and indorsed by Impudence, what did it matter to Ned
Straw, since his system would enable him to redeem them at maturity? His
only real concern was to conceal their recent origin. So he wrote them
with a broad-nibbed pen, that they might be the blacker, and set them to
dry in the sun.
He then proceeded to a change of toilet.
While thus employed, there was a sharp tap at his door and Vizard's voice
outside. Severne started with terror, snapped up the three bills with the
dexterity of a conjurer--the handle turned--he shoved them into a
drawer--Vizard came in--he shut the drawer, and panted.
Vizard had followed the custom of Oxonians among themselves, which is to
knock, and then come in, unless forbidden.
"Come," said he, cheerfully, "those bills. I'm in a hurry to cash them
now, and end the only difference we have ever had, old fellow."
The blood left Severne's cheek and lips for a moment, and he thought
swiftly and hard. The blood returned, along with his ready wit. "How good
you are!" said he; "but no. It is Sunday."
"Sunday!" ejaculated Vizard.
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