Moffatt’s office had been transformed since Ralph’s last visit.  Paint, varnish and brass railings gave an air of opulence to the outer precincts, and the inner room, with its mahogany bookcases containing morocco-bound “sets” and its wide blue leather arm-chairs, lacked only a palm or two to resemble the lounge of a fashionable hotel.  Moffatt himself, as he came forward, gave Ralph the impression of having been done over by the same hand:  he was smoother, broader, more supremely tailored, and his whole person exhaled the faintest whiff of an expensive scent.  He installed his visitor in one of the blue arm-chairs, and sitting opposite, an elbow on his impressive “Washington” desk, listened attentively while Ralph made his request.

“You want to be put onto something good in a damned hurry?” Moffatt twisted his moustache between two plump square-tipped fingers with a little black growth on their lower joints.  “I don’t suppose,” he remarked, “there’s a sane man between here and San Francisco who isn’t consumed by that yearning.”

Having permitted himself this pleasantry he passed on to business.  “Yes—­it’s a first-rate time to buy:  no doubt of that.  But you say you want to make a quick turn-over?  Heard of a soft thing that won’t wait, I presume?  That’s apt to be the way with soft things—­all kinds of ’em.  There’s always other fellows after them.”  Moffatt’s smile was playful.  “Well, I’d go considerably out of my way to do you a good turn, because you did me one when I needed it mighty bad.  ‘In youth you sheltered me.’  Yes, sir, that’s the kind I am.”  He stood up, sauntered to the other side of the room, and took a small object from the top of the bookcase.

“Fond of these pink crystals?” He held the oriental toy against the light.  “Oh, I ain’t a judge—­but now and then I like to pick up a pretty thing.”  Ralph noticed that his eyes caressed it.

“Well—­now let’s talk.  You say you’ve got to have the funds for your—­your investment within three weeks.  That’s quick work.  And you want a hundred thousand.  Can you put up fifty?”

Ralph had been prepared for the question, but when it came he felt a moment’s tremor.  He knew he could count on half the amount from his grandfather; could possibly ask Fairford for a small additional loan—­but what of the rest?  Well, there was Clare.  He had always known there would be no other way.  And after all, the money was Clare’s—­it was Dagonet money.  At least she said it was.  All the misery of his predicament was distilled into the short silence that preceded his answer:  “Yes—­I think so.”

“Well, I guess I can double it for you.”  Moffatt spoke with an air of Olympian modesty.  “Anyhow, I’ll try.  Only don’t tell the other girls!”