“I am in ignorance of the whole business.” “Quite so--quite so. I think, therefore, that I am quite justified in asking your people to pay me just the bare sum--out-of-pocket expenses--which we have expended upon my grandmother.” “Oh!” The tone was not encouraging, but the other man was not versed in these external signs, and went on, unabashed: “You saw yourself the other day the style in which we live, I believe, Mr. Campaigne; you will acknowledge that it was a noble Tea.” Leonard bowed solemnly. “An account rendered, under any circumstances, for the maintenance of a grandmother, a mother, and a wife I should myself tear up and throw into the fire. But it is no concern of mine. You can send your claim to my great-grandfather----” “My great-grandfather as much as yours.” “To his solicitors, whose name and address you probably know; if not, I will furnish you with them. If that is all you have to say----” He moved towards the door. “No, no. I mean this. We had a right to expect a fortune, and there has been none.” “You said that before. Again, Mr. Galley, I cannot discuss this matter with you. Take your claim to the right quarter.” “I’m not obliged to keep the old woman,” he replied sulkily. “I decline to discuss your views of duty.” “I want to wake up the old man to a sense of justice. I will, too. If he’s mad we will find out. If he isn’t, I will make him pay--even if I have to expose him.” Leonard stepped to the door and threw it open. Mr. Galley rose. His face betrayed many emotions. In fact, the conversation had not proceeded quite on the lines he hoped. “Don’t be in a hurry,” he said. “Give me a little time.” Leonard closed the door and returned to the hearth-rug. “Take time, Mr. Galley.” “I don’t want,” he said, “to behave ungentlemanly, but I’m in desperate trouble. If you think it’s no good sending in a claim, I withdraw it. The fact is, Mr. Campaigne, I want money. I want money desperately.” Leonard made no reply. This was discouraging. “I’ve been speculating--in house property--backing a builder; and the man is going. That is what has happened to me. If I can’t raise a thousand pounds in the course of a day or two I must go too.” “You will not raise anything by sending in a bill for the maintenance of your grandmother. Put that out of your head, Mr. Galley.” He groaned. “Then, will you lend me a thousand pounds, Mr. Campaigne? You were very friendly when you came to see us the other day. The security is first-class--the shells of three unfinished houses--and I will give you eight per cent. for the accommodation. Good security and good interest. There you are. Come, Mr. Campaigne: you are not a business man, and I don’t think you can make, as a rule, more than three per cent. at the outside.” “I have no money either to lend or to advance.” “I have been to the bank, but they won’t look at the business. It’s a mean, creeping, miserable bank. I shall change it.”