“I am afraid he has been imprudent,” I murmured.
“You call it imprudent?” raising his voice. “Well, I call it by another name, and the fine young gentleman wants me to lend a hand with a big cheque in it to pull him out of a hole.”
“I am sure you are kinder than you make yourself out to be, Mr. Balthasar. Can you not help him?” I ventured timidly.
“No; why should I?” knitting his black brows. “He would go ahead and back horses. What a young fool! Only for me he would have been in big trouble before this. I have lent money—certainly it has been repaid—but then there was the risk. No, no; I can do no more.”
“Then in that case, why did you come?” I asked with a touch of temper. “I believe Ronnie was trusting to you for assistance.”
He looked momentarily taken aback and then replied in his slow drawl:
“I came just to see how he was going to work his head out of the noose, and also because it gave me a chance of meeting you, which is always such a pleasure.”
“You say that you have lent Ronnie money before and been repaid. Can you not do so again? I believe you are a very rich man, Mr. Balthasar, and a sum that would be salvation to Ronnie is a mere trifle to you.”
“Where is my security?” he demanded sharply.
“I can give security. I have money in England. See,” I said, rising and going to the table; “here is a letter I have written to my bankers, asking them to sell out stock, and remit the amount to me.”