“It’s my belief that Piper did ask Mrs. Crofton to speak to you, sir, about the matter, and I thought, maybe, that she ’ad done so.  ’Ave I your permission to say, sir, that I met you in the road, and that the subject cropped up as it were?”

“You can say anything you like,” said Radmore coldly.

He could not ask this strange, sinister woman to remain silent, yet the thought that Enid Crofton was about to be told that he and this Mrs. Piper had discussed her affairs was very disagreeable to him.

Radmore was tempted for a moment to do a quixotic act, to say to the woman, “I will find this money for your husband; don’t trouble Mrs. Crofton,” and but for what had happened not an hour ago he would almost certainly have done so.  But now he felt as if he never wanted to hear Enid Crofton’s name mentioned again, and he would have given a good deal to obliterate her and her concerns entirely from his memory.

They were now, much to his relief, close to The Trellis House:  “I will ring the bell for you,” he said courteously, and then, without waiting for her thanks, he hurried off towards Old Place.

* * * * *

The next evening Jack Tosswill drew Radmore aside.  “Look here,” he said awkwardly, “I wonder if you’d kindly wait a bit after the others have gone to bed?  I want to ask you something, Godfrey.”

“Of course I will, old chap.”  Radmore looked hard into the young man’s moody, troubled face, and came to a certain conclusion.  Doubtless Enid Crofton had given Jack his dismissal, and the foolish fellow was going to pour it all out.  He felt he was in for a disagreeable, not to say painful, half hour.  Few people of a kindly disposition even reach the age Radmore had reached without having had more than one such talk with a young man crossed in love.

As soon as they settled themselves down, each with his pipe, in front of the drawing-room fire, Jack began, speaking obviously with a great effort, and yet with a directness and honesty which the older man admired:—­

“Look here, Godfrey?  It’s no use beating about the bush.  I want to know if you can lend me L500, and I want to say at once that I don’t know when I shall be able to pay you back.  Still, I shall be able to pay you interest.  I suppose one pays the bank rate?  I don’t know anything about those things.  Of course, you may ask why don’t I go to my father, but—­”

Radmore stopped him.  “It’s all right, old chap.  I’ll give you a cheque this evening before we go to bed.”

“I say—­” Jack turned round.  “You’re a good fellow, Radmore; I wouldn’t do it, only—­only—­”

“I know,” said Radmore coolly.  “I quite realise it isn’t for yourself.  I suppose it’s to oblige a pal.  You needn’t tell me anything more about it.  As a matter of fact I meant to ask you whether you’d take a present from me of just that sum.  I don’t suppose you know how I feel about you all.  George and I were just like brothers.  He’d have given me anything.”