"A hundred a year," said he.
"Ah! A good wage. When were you last paid?"
Priam remembered that he had paid Leek two days ago.
"The day before yesterday," said he.
"I must say again you are not very respectful," Duncan observed, drawing
forth his pocket-book. "However, here is L8 7_s_., a month's wages in
lieu of notice. Put your things together, and go. I shall have no
further use for you. I will make no observations of any kind. But be
good enough to _dress_--it is three o'clock--and leave the house at
once. Let me see your box or boxes before you go."
When, an hour later, in the gloaming, Priam Farll stood on the wrong
side of his own door, with Henry Leek's heavy kit-bag and Henry Leek's
tin trunk flanking him on either hand, he saw that events in his career
were moving with immense rapidity. He had wanted to be free, and free he
was. Quite free! But it appeared to him very remarkable that so much
could happen, in so short a time, as the result of a mere momentary
impulsive prevarication.
* * * * *
CHAPTER II
_A Pail_
Sticking out of the pocket of Leek's light overcoat was a folded copy of
the _Daily Telegraph_. Priam Farll was something of a dandy, and like
all right-thinking dandies and all tailors, he objected to the suave
line of a garment being spoilt by a free utilization of pockets.
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