“I’m expecting a sum of five thousand pounds in a week at the latest, in fact I may receive it any day between now and then. In the meantime there are some pressing things I ought to pay. Would it be possible for you to lend me a thousand pounds for a week, at a fair interest, of course?” It was rather a cool request, even to a man who was about to enter his family. Leonard was by no means a parsimonious man, but he rather resented it. Why the deuce did he not manage his finances properly, curb his extravagance, instead of sponging upon somebody apparently much poorer than himself? He spoke rather coldly; he thought that if he made it too easy, Mr. Stormont would be encouraged to fall back upon him at any time he thought fit. “It’s a bit inconvenient, but if you can’t get it anywhere else, I must do it. Won’t your bank do it?” Stormont shook his head. “The manager is a very cross-grained chap, puts every obstacle in the way of doing you a favour. And, to tell you the truth, I am just a trifle overdrawn. It is not the most propitious time to ask for even a short loan.” This admission revealed a terrible state of things, thought Lydon. Just a trifle overdrawn! He had probably drawn his last cheque to pay for the unnecessarily expensive lunch, unless he had borrowed the money from his sister. The solid fact emerged that Howard Stormont, who had driven up to the _Piccadilly_ in his Rolls-Royce, the supposed man of wealth, the owner of that lordly pleasure-house, Effington Hall, was at the present moment as hard up as anybody could be. And he appeared to have no credit, no husbanded resources. He was awaiting that five thousand which was to come not later than a week, which might come earlier, which, for all the young man knew, might never come at all. That request for a thousand pounds might be the last throw of a desperate gambler. Still, if he was going to run the risk, he might as well do the thing gracefully. “Can you deposit anything in the way of security, in case of unforeseen accidents?” he inquired casually. He was fairly certain of what the answer would be, but he wanted to make quite sure as to whether or not Stormont had any resources. Again the financier shook his head. “Nothing that you could call absolute security,” he replied, his rubicund face growing a shade redder as he made the damaging admission. “I could, of course, show you papers proving there is a lot of money coming to me. But as the accommodation is for so short a time, I should suggest my note of hand for the amount, plus interest.” “I don’t want any interest,” said the young man hastily. “I am not a money-lender. I am doing this in a friendly way. Well, I’ve a busy afternoon before me, so, if you don’t mind, we’ll settle this affair as soon as possible. Drive me round to my rooms in Ryder Street and I will give you my cheque; I have as much lying at the bank which I was intending to invest. We can get a bill at the nearest post-office as we go along.”