"Indeed, sir, I came of my own free will. No one knows, even, that I have come. Mr. Brandon, I hope you will help me: it is almost a matter of life or death." "You are wasting words and time, Johnny Ludlow." And I felt I was. Felt it hopelessly. "There's an old saying, and a very good one, Johnny--Tell the whole truth to your lawyer and doctor. I am neither a lawyer nor a doctor: but I promise you this much, that unless you tell me the truth of the matter, every word of it, and explain your request fully and clearly, you may go marching back to London." There was no help for it. I spoke a few words, and they were quite enough. He seemed to grasp the situation as by magic, and turned me, as may be said, inside out. In five minutes he knew by heart as much of it as I did. "So!" said he, in his squeaky voice--ten times more squeaky when he was vexed. "Good! A nice nest you have got amongst. Want him to give post-obit bonds, do they! Which _is_ Todhetley--a knave or a fool?" "He has refused to give the bonds, I said, sir." "Bonds, who's talking of bonds?" he retorted. "For playing, _I_ mean. He must have been either a knave or a fool, to play till he owed a hundred pounds when he knew he had not the means to pay." "But I have explained how it was, sir. He lost, and then played on, hoping to redeem his losses. I think Crayton had him fast, and would not let him escape." "Ay. Got him, and kept him. That's your grand friend, the Honourable, Johnny Ludlow. There: give me the newspaper." "But you will let me have the money, sir?" "Not if I know it." It was a woeful check. I set on and begged as if I had been begging for life: saying I hardly knew what. That it might save Tod from a downhill course--and spare grief to the poor old Squire--and pain to me. Pain that would lie on my mind always, knowing that I possessed the money, yet might not use it to save him. "It's of no use, Johnny. I have been a faithful guardian to you, and done well by your property. Could your dead father look back on this world and see the income you'll come into when you are of age, he would know I speak the truth. You cannot suppose I should waste any portion of it, I don't care how slight a one, in paying young men's wicked gambling debts." I prayed him still. I asked him to put himself in my place and see if he would not feel as I felt. I said that I should never--as I truly believed--have an opportunity of spending money that would give me half the pleasure of this, or do half the good. Besides, it was only a loan: Tod was sure to repay it when he could. No: old Brandon was hard as flint. He got up and rang the bell. "We'll drop it, Johnny. What will you take? Have you had anything since breakfast?" "No, sir. But I don't want anything." "Bring up dinner for this young gentleman," he said, when the waiter appeared. "Anything you have that's _good_. And be quick about it, please."