'"I say, Sir, that I cannot pay your interest ... and that your principal, the money you lent me--yes--your £25,000--is gone. You'll never get a penny of it," and then he laughed scornfully. I heard Mr. Probus's step as he sprang to his feet, I heard him strike the table with his open hand. His face I could not see. '"Sir," he cried, "explain. Where is my money?" '"Gone, I say. Everything is gone. Your money; my money; all that I could raise--my ships are sold; the business is gone: the creditors are gathering. Probus, I shall be a bankrupt in less than three months. I have worked it out; I can play one against the other, but only for three months. Then the House must be bankrupt." '"The House--bankrupt?--this House--Halliday Brothers? You had a hundred thousand of your own when you succeeded. You had credit: you had a noble fleet: and a great business. And there's your father's money in the business as well. It _can't_ be gone." '"It is gone--I tell you--all gone--my money, Probus--_integer vitae_--that's gone: and your money, old Scelerisque Probus. That's gone too. All gone--all gone." To be sure he was three parts drunk. I heard Mr. Probus groan and sink back into his chair. Then he got up again. "Tell me," he said again, "tell me, you poor drivelling drunken devil--I'll kill you if you laugh. Tell me, where is the money gone?" '"I don't know," his voice was thick with drink, "I don't know. It's all gone. Everything's gone." '"I lent you the money to put into the business--it must be in the business still." '"It never was in the business. I tell you, Probus--it's all gone." 'There was silence for a few minutes. Then Mr. Probus said softly, "Mr. Halliday, we are old friends--tell me that you have only been playing off a joke upon me. You are a little disguised in liquor. I can pass over this accident. The money is in the business, you know; in this fine old business, where you put it when you borrowed it." '"It's all gone--all gone," he repeated. "Man, why won't you believe? I tell you that everything is gone. Make me a bankrupt at once, and you will share with the creditors: oh! yes, you will be very lucky: you will divide between you the furniture of the counting-house and the empty casks on the Quay." 'Then Mr. Probus began to curse and to swear, and to threaten. He would throw Mr. Matthew into prison and keep him there all his life: he would prosecute him at the Old Bailey: he called him thief, scoundrel, villain: Mr. Matthew laughed in his drunken mood. He would not explain how the money was lost: he only repeated that it was gone--all gone.