There might have been more of these appalling revelations to follow, but at that moment I caught sight of Freddy’s face, on which there had settled a blank look of consternation, and we marched upstairs together, much sadder if wiser men. ‘Well, what the deuce we are going to do now, I’ll be shot if I know,’ he said as we shut the door behind us. ‘Squiff’s gone and popped the only marketable commodity in the house, and there are thirty precious pounds in London simply waiting for me to send for them.’ ‘I know,’ I said; ‘couldn’t Webster, your old scout in College, lend you thirty shillings for one day? I’ve been told that he runs a house at Margate, and is worth nearly five hundred a year. Some of these College servants are regular Croesuses.’ ‘Yes, that’s not half a bad idea, Martha; in fact it’s about the only thing we can do; let’s go round and interview the old bird at once.’ So saying we descended the well-worn stairs again, and hurried round to see the mysterious Webster, who wears a coat like a banker, and always takes front seats at the best concerts. The worthy man readily lent us the needful, and so that little trouble came to an end. Misfortunes, however, never come singly, and only that evening Reggie and I and the Pilot were progged in the Hyde, and requested in the politest manner to call on the Junior Proctor at Gloucester at 9.30 next morning. ‘I suppose,’ said the Pilot, mournfully, as we moved off, ‘that this is a quid-touch, but where my adjectived quid is to come from I don’t know.’ ‘_Je ne sais pas, you don’t sais pas, and he doesn’t sai pas_,’ quoted Reggie. ‘Freddy gets his oof to-morrow, but certainly not by nine,’ I said. ‘Then the only thing to be done is to ask the man to wait a day, and borrow the money from Freddy when he gets his cheque,’ remarked the Pilot, cheerfully. On the following morning we dropped anchor in the Gluggins porch at 9.30, and asked for the J.P.’s rooms, which we found in the well-known row of cottages on the left of the garden, with three bull-dogs guarding the door. When our names had been taken, Reggie went in, and came out smiling after a short interview. ‘Told me to let him have it by one o’clock,’ muttered Reggie, as the Pilot passed in. ‘I said I expected a remittance from my aunt.’ In a moment the Pilot also returned looking as solemn as usual. ‘He got rather angry when I mentioned a remittance from my aunt, but let me off till one o’clock,’ he remarked. When I was shown in, I found the J.P., a round and pompous little man, robed and banded, standing by the table. ‘I suppose, Mr. Cochrane,’ he began at once, ‘that you, like the other two gentlemen whom I have just seen, are expecting a remittance from your aunt.’ ‘No, sir,’ I replied meekly, ‘my great uncle always attends to these matters, but I am certainly expecting a remittance from him.’