He never knew that only thirteen one-pound notes made up this brave financial show of his adversary.

Alan Hawke was a past master of keeping up a brave exterior and he blessed the Cook's Tourists who had that day left these small bills with the hotel cashier.
"Now, here you are," hastily said Anstruther.

"Do you make the same total as I do ?" The spoiled patrician boy carelessly shoved out sixty pounds in notes and rummaging over his portmanteau produced a check book.

"There, I think that's right.

Check on Grindlay, 11 and 12 Parliament Street, for four hundred and twenty-eight." Hawke bowed gravely with the air of a satisfied duelist, and then carelessly swept the check and notes into his breast pocket.
"Tell me, what sort of a girl is this Nadine Johnstone," the wanderer said, by way of a diversion.
"I can't tell you! Only old General Willoughby has pierced the veil.
Of course, Johnstone could not refuse a visit from the Commander of Her Majesty's forces.