"It's a pity we don't know Cyril's address in Belgium," he said, in a musing tone. "We might telegraph across for leave to use his money meanwhile. Remember, I'm just as deeply compromised as you, or even more so. It's a pity we should both be ruined, with six thousand pounds standing at this very moment to Cyril's account at the London and West Country. But it can't be helped. There's no time to lose. The money must be paid in sharp by this evening." "By this evening!" Guy exclaimed, starting up excitedly. Nevitt nodded assent. "Yes, by this evening, of course," he answered unperturbed, "or we become ipso facto defaulters and bankrupts." That was a lie to be sure; but it served his purpose. Guy was a child at business, and believed whatever nonsense Nevitt chose to foist upon him. The journalist rose and paced the room twice or thrice with a frantic air of unspeakable misery. "I shall lose my place at our bank, no doubt," Nevitt went on, in a resigned tone. "But that doesn't much matter. Though a temporary loan--I could pay every penny in six weeks if I'd time--a temporary loan would set things all straight again." "I wish to heaven Cyril was here," Guy exclaimed, in piteous tones. "He is, practically, when you're here," Nevitt answered, with a knowing smile. "You can act as his deputy." "How do you mean?" Guy asked, turning round upon him open-mouthed. Nevitt paused, and smiled sweetly. "This is his cheque-book, I think," he replied, in the oblique retort, picking it up and looking at it. He tore out a cheque, as if pensively and by accident. "That's a precious odd thing," he went on, "that you showed me the other day, don't you know, about your signature and Cyril's being so absolutely identical." Guy gazed at him in horror. "Oh, don't talk about that!" he cried, running his hand through his hair. "If I were even to entertain such an idea for a moment, my self-respect would be gone for ever." "Exactly so," Nevitt put in, with a satirical smile. "I said so just now. You've no initiative. Cyril wouldn't be afraid. Knowing the interests at stake, he'd take a firm stand and act off-hand on his own discretion." "Do you think so?" Guy faltered, in a hesitating voice. Nevitt held him with his eye.