"Rot, Doris," commented Miss Dutton. "It's what they're wearing." "But they aren't all as fat as that," the Nun objected. "Flourishing, Hayes?" asked Billy Foot. "Well, I rather think I've just lost my job," said Andy. "If you're looking out for a really sound way of investing five thousand pounds--" Gilly began. "Four to a gentleman," said Billy. "Three to a friend," corrected the Nun. "Oh, what the devil's the good of trying to talk business here?" cried Gilly in vexation. "Only a chance is a chance, you know." Billy Foot saw that Andy was puzzled. "Gilly--my brother, you know--I suppose I introduced you?--has unfortunately come here with a problem on his mind. I didn't know he had one, or I wouldn't have asked him, because problems bore the girls." "No, they don't. It interests me to see you trying to think." This, of course, from Miss Dutton. The Nun, now imbibing an iced green fluid through a straw, was sublimely abstracted. "My brother," Billy resumed, with a glance of protest towards his interruptor, "has, for some reason or another, become a publisher. That's all right. Not being an author, I don't complain. Having done pretty badly--" "The public's no good," said Gilly gloomily. "He wants to drag in some unfortunate person to be his partner. I understand, Gilly, that, if really well recommended, your accepted partner can lose his time, and the rest of his money, for no more than three thousand pounds--paid down on the nail without discount?" "You've a charming way of recommending the project to Mr. Hayes' consideration," said Gilly, in reproachful resignation. "To my consideration," Andy exclaimed, laughing. "What's it got to do with me?" "It's a real chance," Gilly persisted. "And if you're out of a job, and happen to be able to lay your hands on five--" "Three!" whispered Billy. "--thousand pounds, you might do worse than look into it. Now, I must go," and with no more than a nod to serve as farewell to all the party he rose and sauntered slowly away. He had not touched his brandy; his brother reached over thoughtfully and appropriated it. "I may as well, as I'm going to pay for it," he remarked. Suddenly Andy found himself telling the Nun all about his cable and his affairs. The other two listened; all three were very friendly and sympathetic; even Miss Dutton forbore to sneer. Andy expanded in the kindly atmosphere of interest. "I don't want to go back, you know," he said with a smile that appealed for understanding. "But I must, unless something turns up." "Well, why not talk to Gilly?" the Nun suggested. "Yes, you go round and talk to Gilly," agreed Billy. "Rotting apart, he's got a nice little business, and one or two very good schemes on, but he wants a bit more capital, as well as somebody to help him. He doesn't look clever, but in five years he's built up--yes, a tidy little business. You wouldn't come to grief with Gilly." "But I haven't got the money, or anything like it. I've got nothing."