101 
Payoff
Two days before the thirty-day deadline and scheduled public auction of the assets of Heathersleigh Hall, Amanda Rutherford walked through the doors of the Milverscombe bank.
She made her way straight to Gifford’s desk and set down in front of him a cashier’s check, drawn on an Exeter bank, for £14,500.
“I believe this should clear off the outstanding balance on Heathersleigh Hall,” she said. “When you have calculated the accrued interest due, I will write you a personal check on my account to cover it.”
“What . . . what is this?” huffed Gifford, picking up the check and giving it a cursory glance. “Is this your idea of a joke? I know well enough that you haven’t anything close to such an amount in your account.”
“Do you make it a practice to pry into the finances of your customers?”
“It’s just that—”
“It is no matter,” said Amanda. “As you can see, this check is drawn on my account in Exeter. I am sure you will find that there are ample funds to cover it. Good day, Cousin Gifford.”
Chagrinned, Gifford watched as she turned and walked toward the door. Slowly it was dawning on him that he was apparently going to be denied yet again being able to get his hands on the place.
“There are still the call notices on the other loans,” he called after her angrily, as if to remind her that whatever she did, he still held the fate of the rest of the town in his hands.
Amanda paused and glanced back.
“We shall see, Cousin Gifford,” she said. “We shall see.”
Amanda and Jocelyn’s most recent visit, with Stirling accompanying them, to the bank in Exeter a few days earlier had had another purpose than only arranging for the cashier’s check. Amanda had also withdrawn a large sum of cash, mostly in twenty-, fifty-, and hundred-pound notes. They left immediately for Milverscombe, not wanting to be away from home with such a sum of cash any longer than absolutely necessary.
The evening after her brief interview with Gifford, Amanda and her mother spent visiting all those with pending call notices due on their loans. Every visit was met with the same tearful disbelief and gratitude when Jocelyn extended her hand with a sheaf of cash notes in it.
“But, Lady Jocelyn . . . Lady Amanda,” most of them began, “we cannot accept such generosity.”
“You must not see this as a gift from us,” was Jocelyn’s reply. “The money is in fact not ours at all. It is what we think to be a portion of an ill-gotten pirate’s or smuggler’s treasure hidden for years at the Hall. It does not belong to us more than to anyone else, and the best way to cleanse such wealth and turn it to good is to give it away and turn it to a use that benefits the entire community.”
The following morning, almost from the instant he unlocked the bank’s doors, Gifford was greeted with a steady stream, mounting about an hour later to a deluge, of men and women, all asking to see him, then telling him that they had come to pay off their loans according to the terms of the thirty-day call notices they had been sent. Well able to guess the source of this sudden flood of wealth, and furious at being so thoroughly foiled by his cousin’s daughter, he had no alternative but to mark every note “Paid in Full.”
What else could he do? The people were carrying in fistfuls of bank notes in cash!
That night the bank of Milverscombe closed its doors with more cash in its safe than at any time since its opening. The next day Jocelyn telephoned Mr. Fotheringay in London, informing him that all the notes had been cleared.
Three days later, still reeling from the week’s events and the cash payoff of every single outstanding loan as well as the Heathersleigh mortgage, Gifford Rutherford was yet more stunned to look up from his desk to see Mr. Fotheringay himself, the President of the bank, striding across the floor toward his desk. The look on his face was stormy and unpleasant. Slowly Gifford rose, wondering what this could possibly be about.
“Mr. Rutherford,” said Fotheringay without benefit of any pleasantries, “if I might have a word with you.”
“Of course, Mr. Fotheringay . . . what an unexpected pleasure to welcome you to—”
“Spare me your pleasantries, Mr. Rutherford,” interrupted Fotheringay. “I am afraid it will not be such a pleasure when I inform you that you are relieved of your duties here, effective immediately. Mr. Miles will take over temporarily. As for your future, I will speak with you next week in London. Good day.”
Fotheringay turned and departed as abruptly as he had come, leaving the bank’s employees, who had heard every word, standing in stunned silence.
Mortified, Gifford wasted no time in hurrying from the building, turning in the opposite direction the moment he was through the door.
————
If the truth were known, Giles Fotheringay had been awaiting an opportunity to slap Gifford Rutherford’s hands for some time. He was furious at what had been done in the matter of the call notices. Even though serious repercussions had been preempted by the payoff, he still considered it a stain on the bank’s reputation.
Even as the papers throughout England were full of news and speculation about the enormous discovery made in the garret of Heathersleigh Hall, Gifford was called on the carpet immediately upon his return to London. Fotheringay told him bluntly that he was seriously considering not only demoting him from his vice-presidency but firing him altogether. Pending a final decision, however, he informed Gifford that effective immediately, he was on two-week suspension, without pay.
Gifford slunk from the building in disgrace.
Hearing of what had transpired through Martha, Jocelyn returned to London to plead with Fotheringay to reconsider, making a recommendation to the bank’s president which, she said, she was certain would do Gifford more good in the long run than any disciplinary action.
Fotheringay thanked her warmly and promised to consider it.