"Ferdy!" said Miss Baird, sharply, for his flippant tone jarred on her, "you have no right to speak like this of Dr. Jerce. Everyone who knows him, is aware that his character is of the highest. He is charitable and attends to poor people in some London slum for nothing. No one can breathe a word against him. A man like Dr. Jerce would not hold the position he does, or expect to be knighted, unless his reputation and life were spotless. However, there's an easy way of learning the truth. Dr. Jerce is coming down again to-morrow to consult with Dr. Wentworth over Uncle Henry's case; I'll tell him what you say!"
"No! no!" This time Ferdinand went quite white and spoke with dry lips. "You'll only get me into a row. I dare say Jerce is all right. I never heard anyone speak of him save with the highest praise, and he has been a good friend to me. I don't want to quarrel with him."
"There is no need that you should do so, Ferdy. All I mean to ask Dr. Jerce is, why the man assaulted him and went through his pockets."
"He says that he doesn't know," said Ferdy gruffly.
"You say that he knows the man?"
"He might--that is, I think so. Anyhow, he wouldn't let me go for the police, so it looks as though he didn't want a public row. But you'd better not say anything, Clarice. Jerce may get his back up at my telling you. He'd row me. I don't want that. Jerce is a brick, you know, Clarry. He's lent me money when Uncle Henry kept me short."
Remembering the hopes expressed by the doctor, Clarice was vastly indignant at this revelation, and faced her weak twin with clenched hands. "How dare you borrow money from Dr. Jerce?" she said, and her eyes flashed. "Uncle Henry gives you all you want."
"He doesn't," said Ferdy, sulkily. "He allows me next to nothing. I call him a skinflint. What's two hundred a year?"
"Very good pocket-money. He pays your bills, keeps you for nothing, and gives you four pounds a week to waste. Yet with all that, you borrow from Dr. Jerce. How much have you had?"
"That's my business."