“My cousin said he owed you only about eighty pounds!” cried Richard.
“For clothes, sir,” said the tailor, with a deprecating smile. “The hundred was the cash advanced to oblige you, sir, as a gentleman.”
“What!”
“The hundred I advanced for you two, Sir Richard.”
“For us two? My good fellow, I had none of the money.”
“Oh, sir, don’t say that!” cried the tailor, reproachfully. “Of course, I know that gents wants a little money extry sometimes, and that it’s a tradesman’s dooty to help and oblige a customer if he can; and I did.”
“But—but—”
“Don’t, sir; please don’t—you hurt me! I respect Mr Mark Frayne very much; but you can’t know him without seeing as he’s a bit too free with his money, and I should never have dreamed of letting him have it if it hadn’t been for you, sir.”
“It was not for me!” cried Richard, who was regularly roused and indignant now. “I have nothing whatever to do with my cousin’s debts.”
“Oh, sir, please don’t! I have not come for the money now, though it would be very convenient, for wholesale houses objects to waiting. There you are, you see! You have only to sign the three bits of paper, and there’ll be no more trouble for you at all.”