The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new stories — John Shaqi
The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new storiesTwain, Mark
General
The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new stories
Twain, Mark
American essays -- 19th century; American fiction -- 19th century; Humorous stories, American
But he said that wasn’t any matter; he was quite willing to let the
trifle stand over till another time. I said I might not be in his
neighbourhood again for a good while; but he said it was of no
consequence, he could wait, and, moreover, I could have anything I
wanted, any time I chose, and let the account run as long as I pleased.
He said he hoped he wasn’t afraid to trust as rich a gentleman as I was,
merely because I was of a merry disposition, and chose to play larks on
the public in the matter of dress. By this time another customer was
entering, and the landlord hinted to me to put the monster out of sight;
then he bowed me all the way to the door, and I started straight for
that house and those brothers, to correct the mistake which had been
made before the police should hunt me up, and help me do it. I was
pretty nervous, in fact pretty badly frightened, though, of course, I
was no way in fault; but I knew men well enough to know that when they
find they’ve given a tramp a million-pound bill when they thought it was
a one-pounder, they are in a frantic rage against _him_ instead of
quarrelling with their own near-sightedness, as they ought. As I
approached the house my excitement began to abate, for all was quiet
there, which made me feel pretty sure the blunder was not discovered
yet. I rang. The same servant appeared. I asked for those gentlemen.
‘They are gone.’ This in the lofty, cold way of that fellow’s tribe.
‘Gone? Gone where?’
‘On a journey.’
‘But whereabouts?’
‘To the Continent, I think.’
‘The Continent?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Which way—by what route?’
‘I can’t say, sir.’
‘When will they be back?’
‘In a month, they said.’
‘A month! Oh, this is awful! Give me _some_ sort of idea of how to get a
word to them. It’s of the last importance.’
‘I can’t, indeed. I’ve no idea where they’ve gone, sir.’
‘Then I must see some member of the family.’
‘Family’s away too; been abroad months—in Egypt and India, I think.’
‘Man, there’s been an immense mistake made. They’ll be back before
night. Will you tell them I’ve been here, and that I will keep coming
till it’s all made right, and they needn’t be afraid?’
‘I’ll tell them, if they come back, but I am not expecting them. They
said you would be here in an hour to make inquiries, but I must tell you
it’s all right, they’ll be here on time and expect you.’
So I had to give it up and go away. What a riddle it all was! I was like
to lose my mind. They would be here ‘on time.’ What could that mean? Oh,
the letter would explain, maybe. I had forgotten the letter; I got it
out and read it. This is what it said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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