"A very tidy little sum," said Haken, quite composed. "I required that precise sum myself a month or so ago, to tide over a crisis."
"Did you get it?"
"Not from Oliver Lanwin," retorted the city man dryly.
Prelice jumped up from his chair, and let his cigar fall. He was far from expecting that Haken would own up so quickly. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the table, and looked straight into the withered face before him. "What do you mean?"
"Don't burn the carpet with your cigar," said Haken irrelevantly; and when Prelice stooped to pick it up he continued. "I should rather ask you that, my boy. You know something, or else you wouldn't talk of my borrowing, and of the exact sum which I required."
"I know a great deal," said the young man, and sat down.
Haken settled himself luxuriously in his chair. "Let us hear all about it, my boy," said he. "Is your glass filled; your cigar all right? Good. Fire away. I am in a mood for listening."
"Are you in the mood to face danger?" questioned the other man, astonished at this coolness.
Haken wrinkled his brows as a monkey does. "Danger?" he repeated. "And from whom?"
"From Madame Marie, from Captain Jadby, and from Dr. Horace."