"We had better be plain with each other," he said at last. "My little expedition to the States has been a failure. As a matrimonial proposition I am, for the present, out of the running. They told me to come again in a year's time. Title-hunting American women have short memories, but some beastly reporter recognized me and ran two columns of reminiscences of the trial. That queered me, and after all the decree is not made absolute for another six months."
"Is this anticipatory of the announcement that those eight hundred dollars are the only support between you and bed-rock after all?"
"You jump at my meaning. I'm going to take over the duties of your six, or of some of them, at any rate."
The other's gray eyes reviewed his companion with a keenly calculating glance. There was no irritation in it, rather there was satisfaction. Mr. Miller did not present the aspect of a man whose chances of receiving a debt of one hundred and twenty pounds had been made doubtful. He had more the look of a bull speculator watching a tape as the eighths and sixteenths are added every few minutes to the stock which he commands.
"You will fail," he said drily. "Without funds you must fail. One poor man, in spite of the story books, can do nothing against a hundred and wealth."
"Possibly," said Landon. "But one may be permitted to try."
"No," said the other, stolidly. "One may not be permitted, in Tangier."
Landon looked up and for a moment silence hung heavily between the two men. The one who stood was the picture of heavy, imperturbable resolution. Landon, sitting back in his chair, was animate with energy, with a sort of tenseness which was almost magnetic. It was as if a panther faced a rhinoceros.
Then Landon shrugged his shoulders.
"Am I being threatened, my dear Miller?" he asked quietly.