"That'll do. . . . You can't angle for time any more. . . . Your nephew has been in an affair of this sort before. . . . I'll tell you. Last Thursday at lunch your nephew told me that Christopher's brother's solicitors had withdrawn all the permissions for overdrafts on the books of the Groby estate. There were several to members of the family. Your nephew said that he intended to catch Christopher on the hop--that's his own expression--and dishonour the next cheque of his that came in. He said he had been waiting for the chance ever since the war and the brother's withdrawal had given it him. I begged him not to . . ." "But, good God," the banker said, "this is unheard of . . ." "It isn't," Sylvia said. "Christopher has had five snotty, little, miserable subalterns to defend at court-martials for exactly similar cases. One was an exact reproduction of this. . . ." "But, good God," the banker exclaimed again, "men giving their lives for their country. . . . Do you mean to say Brownie did this out of revenge for Tietjens' defending at court-martials. . . . And then . . . your thousand pounds is not shown in your husband's pass-book. . . ." "Of course it's not," Sylvia said. "It has never been paid in. On Friday I had a formal letter from your people pointing out that North-Westerns were likely to rise and asking me to reconsider my position. The same day I sent an express telling them explicitly to do as I said. . . . Ever since then your nephew has been on the 'phone begging me not to save my husband. He was there, just now, when I went out of the room. He was also beseeching me to fly with him." Tietjens said: "Isn't that enough, Sylvia? It's rather torturing." "Let them be tortured," Sylvia said. "But it appears to be enough." Port Scatho had covered his face with both his pink hands. He had exclaimed: "Oh, my God! Brownie again. . . ." Tietjens' brother Mark was in the room. He was smaller, browner and harder than Tietjens and his blue eyes protruded more. He had in one hand a bowler hat, in the other an umbrella, wore a pepper-and-salt suit and had race-glasses slung across him. He disliked Port Scatho, who detested him. He had lately been knighted. He said: "Hullo, Port Scatho," neglecting to salute his sister-in-law. His eyes, whilst he stood motionless, rolled a look round the room and rested on a miniature bureau that stood on a writing-table, in a recess, under and between bookshelves. "I see you've still got that cabinet," he said to Tietjens. Tietjens said: "I haven't. I've sold it to Sir John Robertson. He's waiting to take it away till he has room in his collection."