Moore, Frederick Ferdinand, 1877- / 2008-06-30 00:00:00
"When are you leaving, Mr. Trenholm?" asked the clerk.
"In an hour in the _Kut Sang_," I said, and the man with the cigarette
turned round and surveyed me with mild surprise. As I stepped to the door
he went up to the window and whispered something to the clerk.
"Mr. Trenholm! Just one minute, please, Mr. Trenholm!"
The clerk called me and I halted, thinking that he had forgotten
something about my letter of credit, or wanted my signature again.
"I want you to meet Mr. Trego," said the teller. "He will be with you in
the _Kut Sang_."
I bowed, and Mr. Trego bowed, but his eyes were appraising me as he
looked at me, although outwardly he had the excessive politeness of a
Latin.
"I am very glad to meet you," he said without the trace of an accent,
although in that mechanical manner which makes the words sound as if they
had been read many times out of a grammar or phrase-book. I took him for
a Frenchman.
"I must be going now, but I hope to meet you on board," I said, and we
bowed again and I left him.
"He's all right," I heard the teller say as I went out, and understood
that the bank-clerk had assured Trego that my character was good enough
for him to be friendly with me on the passage to Hong-Kong.
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