Tourmalin's Time Cheques. Anstey F.

on board a fine ship like this, splendid weather, bracing sea-air, perfect rest, pleasant company, and so on – why, you'd be willing to pay any money for it! Well, bank your extra time; and you can draw every individual hour in quarters, halves, or wholes, when you please and as you please. That's the advantage of it, sir!"

      "I think I see," said Peter: "only, how am I to make the deposit in the first instance?"

      "That's easily arranged. The captain can't compel you to accept the time now by merely putting back the hands of the clock, can he? So, all you have to do is to abstain from altering your watch so long as you are on board, and to fill up a little form; after which I shall be happy to supply you with a book of Time Cheques, which you can fill up and present whenever you wish to spend a given number of minutes in the pleasantest possible of ways."

      "But where am I to present these cheques?" inquired Peter.

      "Oh!" said the Manager, "there will be no difficulty whatever about that. Any clock will cash it for you – provided, of course, that it hasn't stopped. You merely have to slip your cheque underneath or behind it, and you will at once be paid whatever amount of time the cheque is drawn for. I can show you one of our forms if you like?"

      Here he brought out a bulky leather case, from which he extracted a printed document, which he handed to Peter.

      Peter, however, being naturally cautious, felt a hesitation which he scarcely liked to confess.

      "You see," he said, "the fact is, I should like to know first … I've never been engaged in a – a transaction of this kind before; and, well – what I mean is, do I incur any risk of – er – a supernatural character?.. It isn't like that business of Faust's, eh, don't you know?"

      The Manager took back the paper with an abruptness which showed that his temper was ruffled by this suspicion.

      "My good sir!" he said, with a short offended laugh, "don't, on any account, imagine that I care two pins whether you become a depositor or not. I daresay our house will continue to exist without your account. As for liability, ours is a limited concern; and, besides, a deposit would not constitute you a shareholder. If you meant anything more – well, I have still to learn that there's anything diabolical about me, sir! I simply thought I was doing you a good turn by making the suggestion; and, besides, as a business man, I never neglect any opportunity, however small. But it's entirely as you please, I'm sure."

      There was nothing in the least demoniacal, even in his annoyance, and Peter was moved to contrition and apology.

      "I – I really beg your pardon!" he said. "I do hope I haven't offended you; and, if you will allow me, I shall consider it a personal favour to be allowed to open an account with your bank. It would certainty be a great convenience to draw some of this superfluous time at some future day, instead of wasting it now. Where do I sign the form?"

      The Manager was appeased; and produced the form once more, indicating the place for the signature, and even providing a stylograph-pen for the purpose. It was still somewhat of a relief to Peter's mind to find that the ink it contained was of the ordinary black hue.

      "And now, about cheques," said his friend, after the signature had been obtained. "How many do you think you would require? I should say that, as the deposit is rather small, you will find fifty more than sufficient? We shall debit you with fifty seconds to cover the cheque-book. And we always recommend 'bearer' cheques as, on the whole, more convenient."

      Peter said he would have fifty "bearer" cheques, and was accordingly given an oblong grey-green book, which, except that it was a trifle smaller, was in nowise different, outwardly, from an ordinary cheque-book. Still, his curiosity was not completely satisfied.

      "There is just one question more," he said. "When I draw this time, where will it be spent?"

      "Why, naturally, on board this ship," explained the Manager. "You see that the time you will get must necessarily be the extra time to which you are entitled by virtue of your passage, and which you would have spent as it accrued if you had not chosen to deposit it with us. By the way, when you are filling up cheques, we much prefer not to be called upon to honour drafts for less than fifteen minutes; as much more as you like, but not less. Well, then, we may consider that settled. I am extremely glad to have had the opportunity of obliging you; and I think I can promise that you will have no reason to repent of having made such a use of your time. I'll wish you good-bye for the present, sir!"

      The Manager resumed his hygienic tramp round the deck, leaving Peter with the cheque-book in his hand. He was no longer surprised: now that he was more familiar with the idea, it seemed a perfectly natural and matter-of-fact arrangement; he only wondered that he had never thought of so obvious a plan before. And it was an immense relief to know that he had got rid of his extra hours for the present, at all events, and that he could now postpone them to a period at which they would be a boon rather than a burden.

      And very soon he put the cheque-book away, and forgot all about it.

      CHAPTER I.

      Tourmalin's First Cheque, and How he Took It

      Fidelity Rewarded. —Love's Catechism. —Brain-fag. —A Timely Recollection. —The Experiment, and some Startling Results. —Question Time. – "Dear Friends." —A Compromise.

      Peter Tourmalin's probation was at an end, and, what was more, he had come through the ordeal triumphantly. How he managed this, he scarcely knew; no doubt he was aided by the consciousness that the extra hours which he felt himself most liable to mis-spend had been placed beyond his disposal. At all events, when he met Sophia again, he had been able to convince her that her doubts of his constancy, even under the most trying conditions, were entirely undeserved. Now he was receiving his recompense: his engagement to Sophia was no longer conditional, but a recognised and irrevocable fact. It is superfluous to say that he was happy. Sophia had set herself to repair the deficiencies in his education and culture; she took him to scientific lectures and classical concerts, and made him read standard authors without skipping. He felt himself daily acquiring balance and seriousness, and an accurate habit of thought, and all the other qualities which Sophia wished him to cultivate.

      Still, there were moments when he felt the need of halting and recovering his wind, so to speak, in the steep and toilsome climb to her superior mental level – times when he felt that his overtaxed brain absolutely required relaxation of some sort.

      He felt this particularly one dreary morning, late in November, as he sat in his London chambers, staring with lack-lustre eyes at the letter he had that day received from his betrothed. For although they met nearly every day, she never allowed one to pass without a letter – no fond and foolish effusion, be it understood, but a kind of epistolary examination-paper, to test the progress he was making. This one contained some searching questions on Buckle's History of Civilisation, which he was expected to answer by return of post. He was not supposed to look at the book, though he had; and even then he felt himself scarcely better fitted to floor the tremendous posers devised by Sophia's unwearying care.

      The day before, he had had "search-questions" in English poetry from Chaucer to Mr. Lewis Morris, which had thinned and whitened his hair; but this was, if possible, even worse.

      He wished now that he had got up his Buckle more thoroughly during his voyage on the Boomerang– and, with the name, his arrangement with the Manager suddenly rose to his recollection. What had he done with that book of Time Cheques? If he could only get away, if but for a quarter of a hour – away from those sombre rooms, with their outlook on dingy housetops and a murky rhubarb-coloured sky, – if he could really exchange all that for the sunniness and warmth and delicious idleness which had once seemed so tedious, what a rest it would be! And would he not return after such an interlude with all his faculties invigorated, and better able to cope with the task he now found almost insuperable?

      The first thing was to find the cheque-book, which did not take him long; though when he had found it, something made him pause before filling up a cheque. What if he had been made a fool of – if the Anglo-Australian Joint Stock Time Bank Limited never existed, or had suspended payment? But that was easily settled by presenting a cheque. Why should he not, just by way of experiment?