“Gad, no! I had full measure and running over this afternoon. The deuce of it is, I don’t see where the money’s all gone to. Luckily I’ve got plenty of nerve; I’m not the kind of man to sit down and snivel because I’ve been touched in Wall Street.” Wrayford got to his feet again. “Then, if you don’t want me, I think I’ll go up to my room and put some finishing touches to a brief before I turn in. I must get back to town to-morrow afternoon.” “All right, then.” Stilling set down his empty glass, and held out his hand with a tinge of alacrity. “Good night, old man.” They shook hands, and Wrayford moved toward the door. “I say, Austin--stop a minute!” his host called after him. Wrayford turned, and the two men faced each other across the hearth-rug. Stilling’s eyes shifted uneasily. “There’s one thing more you can do for me before you leave. Tell Isabel about that loan; explain to her that she’s got to sign a note for it.” Wrayford, in his turn, flushed slightly. “You want me to tell her?” “Hang it! I’m soft-hearted--that’s the worst of me.” Stilling moved toward the tray, and lifted the brandy decanter. “And she’ll take it better from you; she’ll _have_ to take it from you. She’s proud. You can take her out for a row to-morrow morning--look here, take her out in the motor-launch if you like. I meant to have a spin in it myself; but if you’ll tell her--” Wrayford hesitated. “All right, I’ll tell her.” “Thanks a lot, my dear fellow. And you’ll make her see it wasn’t my fault, eh? Women are awfully vague about money, and she’ll think it’s all right if you back me up.” Wrayford nodded. “As you please.” “And, Austin--there’s just one more thing. You needn’t say anything to Isabel about the other business--I mean about my mother’s securities.” “Ah?” said Wrayford, pausing. Stilling shifted from one foot to the other. “I’d rather put that to the old lady myself. I can make it clear to her. She idolizes me, you know--and, hang it! I’ve got a good record. Up to now, I mean. My mother’s been in clover since I married; I may say she’s been my first thought. And I don’t want her to hear of this beastly business from Isabel. Isabel’s a little harsh at times--and of course this isn’t going to make her any easier to live with.” “Very well,” said Wrayford. Stilling, with a look of relief, walked toward the window which opened on the terrace. “Gad! what a queer night! Hot as the kitchen-range. Shouldn’t wonder if we had a squall before morning. I wonder if that infernal skipper took in the launch’s awnings before he went home.” Wrayford stopped with his hand on the door. “Yes, I saw him do it. She’s shipshape for the night.” “Good! That saves me a run down to the shore.” “Good night, then,” said Wrayford. “Good night, old man. You’ll tell her?” “I’ll tell her.” “And mum about my mother!” his host called after him. II