His heavy yet shrewd countenance, whose florid hue bespoke a modern adjustment of golf to a more traditional use of port, had that cold, vacant look which it displayed when the mind behind the mask had recorded Q. E. D. beneath its unseen demonstration. The gentleman at the table twitched his shoulders nervously, slowly raised his head, and leaned back into his chair.
"And you say that there is absolutely nothing which can be done?" he repeated mechanically.
"I have already told you, Sir Richard," replied Flynt in even, incisive tones, "that the last day of grace expires to-morrow. Unless the three notes are immediately taken up you will be forced into bankruptcy. Your property and expectations are already mortgaged for more than they are worth. Your assets of every sort will not return your creditors—I should say your creditor—fifteen per cent. Seventy-nine thousand pounds, principal and interest—can you raise it or even a substantial part of it? No, not five thousand! You have no choice, so far as I can see, but to go into bankruptcy, unless—" He hesitated rather deprecatingly.
"Well!" cried Sir Richard impatiently, "unless——"
"Unless you marry."
The baronet drew himself up and a flush crept into his cheeks and across his forehead.
"As your legal adviser," continued Flynt unperturbed, "I give it as my opinion that your only alternative to bankruptcy is a suitable marriage. Of course, for a man of your position in society a mere engagement might be enough to——"
Sir Richard sprang quickly to his feet and stepped in front of his solicitor.
"To induce the money lenders to advance the amount necessary to put me on my feet? Bah! Flynt, how dare you make such a suggestion! If you were not my solicitor—Good heavens, that I should ever be brought to this!"