Mark threw the end of his cigarette with all his force into the fireplace, and ground his teeth for a few moments before muttering between them-- "Eighty-four pounds, or so!" "What?" "Eighty-four pounds," snarled Mark. "Do you want me to shout it for everyone to know?" "But how could you get into his debt to that extent?" "Didn't I tell you, stupid? Half of it was lent, and I gave him an I.O.U., and he has been piling it up somehow. I don't know what he has done. He was civil and smooth as butter till he had me tight, and now he's showing his teeth." "But he would not have written to Draycott unless you had been disagreeable to him." "Oh! wouldn't he? He threatened to a year ago, when it wasn't so much. It was when he found out I'd been getting some togs from London. I expect he pumped it out of that idiot Jerry Brigley. But I'm not going to sit here exposing my affairs. Will you help me to get out of the hole?" Richard Frayne was silent for a time, and then he said quietly-- "I can't, Mark." "What? Why, you said you would." "Yes, but I thought it meant lending you four or five pounds. I have no more till my quarter comes round." "Till your quarter comes round," sneered Mark; "anyone would think he had his wages then. Here, no nonsense, Dick; you said you would help me." "I did, but I can't." Mark made an angry gesture, but he mastered himself and turned to his cousin. "Look here, it doesn't mean money. Simpson knows that you'll have Quailmere some day, and he said he wouldn't mind waiting if he had good security. It only means putting your name to a bit of paper." "Did Simpson suggest that?" said Richard. "Of course he did, and it means making an end to the trouble. I shall only have to go on paying the interest." "Till Mr Simpson chooses to come down upon me and make me pay," said Richard, with a laugh full of annoyance. "No, he won't; he said he wouldn't. It's such a little sum, too-- nothing to you! Here, come on with me at once, and let's settle it." Richard Frayne sat back in his chair, looking straight before him, unconscious of the fact that his cousin was watching him narrowly, and who now went on with forced gaiety-- "Wish I hadn't been such a fool as to keep it to myself. Here it has been worrying my very life out for months, and made me as irritable as a wasp. You are a good fellow, Dick! But, honour bright, I didn't like to ask you." Richard remained silent. "There, don't think about it any more. Come on." "But it wants thinking about, Mark." "What nonsense! You don't know how easy these things are." "I've often heard," said Richard, drily. "Yes, of course you have," said Mark, with a feeble laugh. "There, put me out of my misery, old chap. Sudden death, you know. Come on." "No," said Richard, quietly. "I promised my poor father that I would never put my name to paper in that way, and I never will." "What?" "You heard, Mark."