Bramham did not answer immediately. He appeared to be turning it over in his mind as to whether he should tell that part of the story at all. Eventually he roused himself to a point of indignation when he had to tell.
"Well, now, look here, Karri—this is the whole thing: About a month ago Brookfield came to my office with a yarn about his typewriter—pretty girl—good girl—knew her business, but fearfully poor, and he hadn't enough work to keep her going—would I give her some of my typing? It meant bread-and-butter to her, etc. Of course, I said 'Right!' But when it came to finding the work for her ... well, Milligan, my head man, put it to me that it meant taking away the typewriting from our own man, who can't do anything else, and has a wife and family ... and when I thought it over, anyway, I kicked at having a woman about the office. However, as I'd promised Brookfield to do something, I went round to see him about it and met the girl—Miss Cornell. I didn't take to her much; but she's poor, you know, and something had to be done to help her out."
"I don't see what business it was of yours at all."
"Karri, it's everybody's business when a woman's down on her luck—even if she has the shifty eye of Miss Sophie Cornell. All the same, I didn't contemplate having to tip up three hundred pounds, and I feel deuced sore about it."
"Three hundred what?" cried Carson.
"Well, look here, what was I to do?" said Bram sullenly. "Brookie badgered me into promising to do something; then the girl said she had a friend who wanted to come and join her, and if they could only get a little hole of their own they could set up an agency and take in work. Presently Brookie heard that some people called Lumsden were going to leave, and wanting to sell up their cottage—offered to sell the whole bag of tricks as it stood for three hundred, and Brookie said he would stand in for half if I would for the other half. I wasn't prepared to plank down one-fifty by any means, but the Cornell girl got hold of me and pitched me a long story about her friend, an English girl, who had got left in Kimberley by some people she was governessing for ... also, she was so full of gratitude about all our plans for them, that before I knew where I was I had promised. Well, Brookie asked me to arrange the thing quietly and take the house over from the Lumsdens in my name, as he didn't want to appear in the matter, because Mrs. Lumsden's sister at the Cape is a great friend of his wife's and he was afraid it might get to her ears. So I paid Lumsden one-fifty down on the nail, and the rest was to be paid in a month, and Miss Cornell settled in and the other girl turned up from Kimberley, and they've made the place all snug and seem as happy as sandboys. In fact, everything was going all right until this afternoon, when Brookie looms up with a face as long as a horse's, and says he's not prepared to pay the other one-fifty."
"The little blackguard!"
"Exactly. Just what I said to him. He said: 'Not at all!' Declared he hadn't let me in for anything.... I could get three hundred pounds any day of the week for Lumsden's place.... Just as if I could, or would, turn those two poor girls out now they're so happy! So, of course, I've just got to tip up the rest of the money and look pleasant ... and, after all, you know, Karri, why should I?... They're nice little women, and all that, and I'd gladly have done something, but three hundred!... I've troubles of my own, by Jove!... My wife doesn't live on Quaker Oats and barley water, by any means."
"And then there's the pleasure of knowing you've been rooked. I never heard of such a piece of barefaced roguery in my life."
"Well, what could I do? He said his wife was coming back unexpectedly and he couldn't raise the money."