'You'll have to be quick about it,' interposed Charles, with a glance at his watch. 'I can give you five minutes; you can say a _lot_ in that time, if you're sound of wind.' The timber-merchant's eyes were very wide, and his cheeks unusually red. Abruptly he turned to Mr. Daffy. 'Do you know _my_ idea?' But just as he spoke there sounded a knock at the door, and the smart maidservant cried out that a gentleman wished to see her master. 'Who is it?' asked Charles. The answer came from the visitor himself, who, pushing the servant aside, broke into the room. It was a young man of no very distinguished appearance, thin, red-haired, with a pasty complexion and a scrubby moustache; his clothes were approaching shabbiness, and he had an unwashed look, due in part to hasty travel on this hot day. Streaming with sweat, his features distorted with angry excitement, he shouted as he entered, 'You've got to see me, Daffy; I won't be refused!' In the same moment his glance discovered the two visitors, and he stopped short. 'Mr. Lott, you here? I'm glad of it--I'm awfully glad of it. I couldn't have wished anything better. I don't know who this other gentleman is, but it doesn't matter. I'm glad to have witnesses--I'm infernally glad! Mr. Lott, you've been to my house this morning; you know what's happened there. I had to go out of town yesterday, and this Daffy, this cursed liar and swindler, used the opportunity to sell up my furniture. He'll tell you he had a legal right. But he gave me his word not to do anything till the end of the month. And, in any case, I don't really owe him half the sum he has down against me. I've paid that black-hearted scoundrel hundreds of pounds--honourably paid him--debts of honour, and now he has the face to charge me sixty per cent, on money I was fool enough to borrow from him! Sixty per cent.--what do you think of that, Mr. Lott? What do _you_ think of it, sir?' 'I'm sorry to say it doesn't at all surprise me,' answered Mr. Daffy, who perceived that the speaker was Mr. Lott's son-in-law. 'But I can't sympathise with you very much. If you have dealings with a book-maker--' 'A blackleg, a blackleg!' shouted Bowles. 'Bookmakers are respectable men in comparison with him. He's bled me, the brute! He tempted me on and on-- Look here, Mr. Lott, I know as well as you do that I've been an infernal fool. I've had my eyes opened--now that it's too late. I hear my wife told you that, and I'm glad she did. I've been a fool, yes; but I fell into the hands of the greatest scoundrel unhung, and he's ruined me. You heard from Jane what I was gone about. It's no good. I came back by the first train this morning without a mouthful of breakfast. It's all up with me; I'm a cursed beggar--and that thief is the cause of it. And he comes into my house no better than a burglar--and lays his hands on everything that'll bring money. Where's the account of that sale, you liar? I'll go to a magistrate about this.'