Priam expected some one to call for a policeman; in spite of himself he felt guilty--or anyhow dubious.

It was the grossest insult to him to throw doubt on the cheque and to examine him in that frigid, shamelessly disillusioned manner.
"You _are_ Mr.Leek ?" a mouth moved.
"Yes" (very slowly).
"How would you like this ?" "I'll thank you to give it me in notes," answered Priam haughtily.
When the disdainful hand had counted twice every corner of a pile of notes, and had dropped the notes one by one, with a peculiar snapping sound of paper, in front of Priam, Priam crushed them together and crammed them without any ceremony and without gratitude to the giver, into the right pocket of his trousers.

And he stamped out of the building with curses on his lips.
Still, he felt better, he felt assuaged.

To cultivate and nourish a grievance when you have five hundred pounds in your pocket, in cash, is the most difficult thing in the world.
_A Visit to the Tailors'_ He gradually grew calmer by dint of walking--aimless, fast walking, with a rapt expression of the eyes that on crowded pavements cleared the way for him more effectually than a shouting footman.

And then he debouched unexpectedly on to the Embankment.