It was a horrid sight, and it gave me
seriously to think. How came it that the side of the book which showed my
takings was so clear and easily to be understood, but the side which showed
their takings wrapt in mystery and hieroglyphics such as not even the
world's leading financiers and mathematicians could hope to unravel? My
subaltern, being consulted, agreed with me; I would have had him carpeted
by the C.O. at once if he hadn't.
I stepped round to COX AND CO. and had it out with them verbally. After a
discussion lasting half-an-hour, it was shown that I had been credited with
a week's pay to which I wasn't entitled and that a month's income-tax, to
which a grasping Government _was_ entitled, had not been deducted. I left
the building ninety-three shillings worse off than I entered it.
I gave COX AND CO. six months to go wrong in, and then called for that
pass-book again. My eye fell upon a paying and deducting and refunding and
readjusting of an item itself so shameful that it dared only appear under
its initials.
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