Frank fancied he did understand.
“Don’t forget Collins,” he warned. “Madison, if you are in need of a small sum, it may be that we can fix it, somehow.”
The darkness hid the flush that rushed to Billy Madison’s face.
“I couldn’t get what I need any other way than to win it where I lost it,” he declared huskily.
Then Frank knew that Madison was in a desperate strait, and he pitied the fellow.
“You shall not go back into that shark’s hole to-night,” he asserted, keeping hold of Billy’s arm. “We’ll talk it over. How much are you behind, man?”
“Nearly a thousand dollars,” answered the yellow-haired youth, all his false buoyancy gone now.
“No more than that?” asked Frank, with apparent relief.
“It’s as bad as ten times the sum. I can’t make it up.”
“Can you give any security?”