"On the contrary, it is just the time when the migratory American, who has spent the summer in doing Europe, returns to England dead broke, and expects, nay, demands, to be helped home."
"Do you have many cases of that sort?"
"Lots. In fact, one especially importunate fellow nearly caused me to lose my train for London yesterday. I gave him what he asked to get rid of him."
"I suppose that sort of thing is a good deal like throwing money into the sea," said Scarsdale. "It never comes back."
"Not often, I regret to say; but in this case my distressed countryman put up collateral."
"Indeed. I trust you can realise on it if need be."
"I don't think I want to," said the Consul, "seeing it's an elephant."
"What!" cried Scarsdale.
"An elephant, or rather, to be exact, an order for one to be delivered by the Nubian and Red Sea Line of freighters in two or three days at Southampton Docks. My friend promises to redeem it before arrival, expects advices from the States, &c., but meanwhile is terribly hard up."
"I hope he will be true to his promises, otherwise I wish you joy of your elephant. You might give it to Lady Steele," suggested Scarsdale.