“Oh, oh! Then you are of age?”
“Yes, I was twenty-one a week ago.”
“Ah, I should not take you for more than eighteen.” And he stared at me with a solemn air of deliberate speculation. “Your fair hair and skin belong to the teens.”
“Won’t you lend Ronnie the money now?” I pleaded, anxious to divert the conversation from my personal appearance, “and I will repay you, as you can see, at once. You may, if you please, cable to my bankers, and——”
“How much do you want?” he interrupted abruptly.
“Four hundred pounds.”
“And when?”
“To-night—to-morrow it may be too late.”
“Oh, oh!” And he gave a horrible sort of chuckle. “Then matters are serious.” He sat for a moment contemplating his neat patent leather shoes. At last he said:
“Well, supposing I do advance this will you give me a formal paper, stamped and witnessed?”