“Oh! wouldn’t he? He threatened to a year ago, when it wasn’t so much. It was when he found out I’d been getting some togs from London. I expect he pumped it out of that idiot Jerry Brigley. But I’m not going to sit here exposing my affairs. Will you help me to get out of the hole?”
Richard Frayne was silent for a time, and then he said quietly—
“I can’t, Mark.”
“What? Why, you said you would.”
“Yes, but I thought it meant lending you four or five pounds. I have no more till my quarter comes round.”
“Till your quarter comes round,” sneered Mark; “anyone would think he had his wages then. Here, no nonsense, Dick; you said you would help me.”
“I did, but I can’t.”
Mark made an angry gesture, but he mastered himself and turned to his cousin.
“Look here, it doesn’t mean money. Simpson knows that you’ll have Quailmere some day, and he said he wouldn’t mind waiting if he had good security. It only means putting your name to a bit of paper.”
“Did Simpson suggest that?” said Richard.