He came with an air of stealth. "I don't want anyone to know I'm doing this," said he frankly. "If it got out, I'd be damaged and you'd not profit."
Rarely does anyone, however unworthy—and Fred Norman was far from unworthy, as we humans go—rarely does anyone find himself absolutely without a friend. There is a saying that no man ever sunk so low, ever became so vile and squalid in soul and body, but that if he were dying, and the fact were noised throughout the world, some woman somewhere would come—perhaps from a sense of duty, perhaps from love, perhaps for the sake of a moment of happiness long past but never equaled, and so never forgotten—but from whatever motive, she would come. In the same manner, anyone in dire straits can be sure of some friend. There were several others whom Norman had been expecting—men he had saved by his legal ingenuity at turning points in their careers. None of these was so imprudent as uselessly to involve himself. It was Tetlow who came—Tetlow, with whom his accounts were more than balanced, with the balance against him. Tetlow, whom he did not expect.
Norman did not welcome him effusively. He said at once: "How is—she?"
Tetlow shifted uneasily. "I don't know. She's not with us. I gave her a place there—to get her away from Culver. But she didn't stay long. No doubt she's doing well."
"I thought you cared about her," said Norman, who in estimating Tetlow's passion had measured it by his own, had neglected to consider that the desires of most men soon grow short of breath and weary of leg.
"Yes—so I did care for her," said Tetlow, in the voice of a man who has been ill but is now well. "But that's all over. Women aren't worth bothering about much. They're largely vanity. The way they soon take a man for granted if he's at all kind to them discourages any but the poorest sort of fool. At least that's my opinion."
"Then you don't come from her?" said Norman with complete loss of interest in his caller.
"No. I've come—Fred, I hear you're in difficulties."
Norman's now deep-set eyes gleamed humorously in his haggard and failed-looking face. "In difficulties? Not at all. I'm under them—drowned forty fathoms deep."
"Then you'll not resent my coming straight to the point and asking if I can help you?"