“Course I haven’t, Joe,” said Mr. Carter.  “I’d have known you anywhere.”

He shook hands effusively, and Mr. Wilson, after a little pretended hesitation, accepted a chair and began to talk about old times.

“I lay you ain’t forgot one thing, Bert,” he said at last.

“What’s that?” inquired the other.

“That arf-quid I lent you,” said Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Carter, after the first shock of surprise, pretended to think, Mr. Wilson supplying him with details as to time and place, which he was in no position to dispute.  He turned to Mr. Evans, who was still acting as his banker, and, after a little hesitation, requested him to pay the money.  Conversation seemed to fail somewhat after that, and Mr. Wilson, during an awkward pause, went off whistling.

“Same old Joe,” said Mr. Carter, lightly, after he had gone.  “He hasn’t altered a bit.”

Miss Evans glanced at him, but said nothing.  She was looking instead towards a gentleman of middle age who was peeping round the door indulging in a waggish game of peep-bo with the unconscious Mr. Carter.  Finding that he had at last attracted his attention, the gentleman came inside and, breathing somewhat heavily after his exertions, stood before him with outstretched hand.

[Illustration:  “A gentleman of middle age was peeping round the door.”]

“How goes it?” said Mr. Carter, forcing a smile and shaking hands.

“He’s grown better-looking than ever,” said the gentleman, subsiding into a chair.

“So have you,” said Mr. Carter.  “I should hardly have known you.”

“Well, I’ m glad to see you again,” said the other in a more subdued fashion.  “We’re all glad to see you back, and I ’ope that when the wedding cake is sent out there’ll be a bit for old Ben Prout.”

“You’ll be the first, Ben,” said Mr. Carter, quickly.

Mr. Prout got up and shook hands with him again.  “It only shows what mistakes a man can make,” he said, resuming his seat.  “It only shows how easy it is to misjudge one’s fellow-creeturs.  When you went away sudden four years ago, I says to myself, ‘Ben Prout,’ I says, ’make up your mind to it, that two quid has gorn.’”

The smile vanished from Mr. Carter’s face, and a sudden chill descended upon the company.

“Two quid?” he said, stiffly.  “What two quid?”

“The two quid I lent you,” said Mr. Prout, in a pained voice.

“When?” said Mr. Carter, struggling.

“When you and I met him that evening on the pier,” said Miss Evans, in a matter-of-fact voice.

Mr. Carter started, and gazed at her uneasily.  The smile on her lip and the triumphant gleam in her eye were a revelation to him.  He turned to Mr. Evans and in as calm a voice as he could assume, requested him to discharge the debt.  Mr. Prout, his fingers twitching, stood waiting “Well, it’s your money,” said Mr. Evans, grudgingly extracting a purse from his trouser-pocket; “and I suppose you ought to pay your debts; still——­”