Baron de Grost passed his arm through the secretary’s and led him a little way through the corridor.
“I thought I recognized our friend,” he remarked. “His presence here this evening is quite interesting.”
“Why this evening?”
Baron de Grost avoided the question.
“Mr. Courtledge,” he said, “I think that you will allow me to ask you something without thinking me impertinent. You know that my wife and I have taken some interest in Prince Albert. It is on his account, is it not, that you look so gloomy to-night, as though you had an execution in front of you?”
Courtledge nodded.
“I am afraid,” he announced, “that we have come to the end of our tether with that young man. It’s a pity, too, for he isn’t a bad sort, and it will do the club no good if it gets about. But he hasn’t settled up for a fortnight, and the matter came before the committee this afternoon. He owes one man over seven hundred pounds.”
The Baron de Grost listened gravely.
“Are you going to speak to him to-night?” he asked.
“I must. I am instructed by the committee to ask him not to come to the club again until he has discharged his obligations.”