"Well, sir, I'd not show myself in the town more than I could help. They are vexed at being kept out of their money thinking some of the family might have paid it; and they might let off a bit if you went amid 'em: unless, indeed, you are taking down the money with you." "Taking the money with me!--why, Butterby, I've not got a sixpence in the world," avowed Roland, opening his surprised eyes. "If Dick Yorke won't lend me a pound or so, I don't know how on earth to get down, unless they let me have a free pass on the top of the engine." There was no time for more. Away he went to Portland Place, and thundered at the door, as if he had been a king. But his visit did not serve him. Sir Vincent Yorke had entered just after Roland departed. Upon receiving the peremptory message, the baronet marvelled what it could mean, and whether all the Yorke family had been blown up, save himself. Nothing else, he thought, could justify the scapegoat Roland in desiring him, Sir Vincent, to _stay in_. To be kept waiting at home when he very particularly wanted to be out--for Sir Vincent had come to town to meet the lady he was shortly to marry, Miss Trehern--made him frightfully cross. So that when Roland re-appeared he had an angry-tempered man to deal with. And, in good truth, had Roland announced the calamity, so pleasantly anticipated, it would have caused Sir Vincent less surprise; certainly less vexation. When he found he had been decoyed into staying in for nothing but to be asked to lend money to take Mr. Roland careering off somewhere by rail--he was in too great a passion to understand where--Sir Vincent exploded. Roland, quietly braving the storm, prayed for "just a pound," as if he were praying for his life. Sir Vincent finally replied that he'd not lend him a shilling if it would save him from hanging. So Roland was thrown on his beam ends, and went back to Mrs. Jones's with empty pockets, revolving ways and means in his mind. CHAPTER XXXI. MR. GALLOWAY INVADED.