A few heads turned. He was aware of it without looking — the particular quality of attention a room gave when someone was saying something they weren’t supposed to say out loud. The teller’s expression was carefully neutral. “Estate matters go through the branch manager, sir. Mr. Fitch.” Elias sighed, “I know that. I’ve been trying to see Mr. Fitch since ten o’clock.”
“I understand, but I’m really not able to —” He glanced past Elias briefly. “You’ll need to speak to reception. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” Elias turned and looked at the room. Some people were watching with the flat irritation of those who felt a queue had been disrupted. A woman near the window had the careful expression of someone trying not to stare.