After a time, Gerald came in and glanced at two or three men who stood about.  At first, Thorn imagined he was looking for him, but saw he was not.  Gerald went into the telephone box close by and shut the door with a jerky movement.  It jarred and then swung back a few inches as if the shock had jolted the spring.  Thorn, whose curiosity was excited, listened and heard the number Gerald asked for.  Then he heard him say: 

“Yes—­Osborn!  Is that Sanderson?  Yes—­I said Ermentrudes.  Any chance of a recovery?  What—­none at all?  Can’t hear—­oh, sell at once!  Margin’s gone.”

Next moment Gerald obviously saw that the door was open, for he banged it noisily and Thorn heard nothing more.  He had, however, heard enough to give him food for thought and waited until Gerald came out.  The young man stood still with his mouth firmly set and his eyes fixed on the wall as if he saw nobody.  His clothes were in the latest fashion, but the look of fastidious languidness that generally marked him had gone.  Turning abruptly, he went up the stairs, and Thorn entered the telephone box and opened the directory.  When he came out he went up to a man he knew.

“Can you tell me anything about Short and Sanderson, stockbrokers?” he asked.

“Not much,” said the other.  “They’re outside brokers.  I imagine they’re trustworthy, but it’s better to do business through a member of the Exchange.  You’ll find it a good rule.”

“Thank you,” said Thorn, who went upstairs to the smoking-room and found Gerald sitting in front of a table, with a newspaper that dealt with financial matters.

“Hallo!” said Thorn.  “I have been expecting you for some days.  I suppose you got my message?”

Gerald looked up and his smile was strained.  “I did, but have been much engaged.  Sit down and join me in a drink.”

“What have you ordered?” Thorn asked, and shrugged when Gerald told him.

“That goes better after dinner.  I’d sooner have something cool and light.”

“Oh, well,” said Gerald.  “I felt I needed bracing.  The fact is, I’ve had a knock—­”

He stopped as a waiter came up and said nothing until the man had gone.  Then he drained his glass and turned to Thorn.

“I’m in a hole.  Can you lend me two thousand pounds?”

Thorn hid his surprise.  He thought urgent need had forced Gerald to make his blunt request; it was not his way to plunge at things like that.

“You asked your father for a smaller sum.”

“They told you about my letter?  Well, things have changed since; changed for the worse.”

“They must have changed rather quickly,” Thorn remarked, for his suspicion was excited and he thought he saw a light.  Gerald had been embarrassed when he wrote to Osborn, and had not wanted the money to invest but to help him to escape the consequences of some extravagance.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Gerald rejoined.  “Will you let me have the money?  You can, if you like.”