For a second Lawrence hesitated. Then, realizing his helplessness, he gave a resigned shrug, and allowed himself to be dragged out to where a taxi waited at the curb. If he could not keep the two away from the gambling joint, at least he might prevent their losing very much.
They piled into the car, with much laughter, and, when Minturn had given a certain address to the chauffeur, and settled down for a second, Barry proceeded to put his plan into operation.
"Look here, Reggie," he said suddenly, "I can't go into Dean's without any money."
"No money!" exclaimed the inebriated one jocosely. "Ha, ha! Tha'sh easy. We'll lend you some—eh, Jack? Show your roll."
Still chuckling, he reached his pocket with some difficulty, and produced a crumpled handful of yellowbacks which he thrust at Barry.
"Take all you want, ol' man," he announced. "Lot's more where that came from, eh, Jack?"
That Barry could readily believe. The elder Minturn was almost sinfully wealthy, and his only son had hitherto led an existence as carefree and lacking in responsibility as the proverbial lily of the field. A swift glance told Barry that there was close to seven hundred dollars in the roll, mostly in fifties and twenties, with the single exception of one five-hundred-dollar bill. Without hesitation Lawrence took the latter, and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.
"This'll do for me," he said carelessly, handing the remainder back.
From the other youth's generously extended bill case he extracted two one-hundred-dollar yellowbacks, leaving less than half that amount. After that he settled back, much more relieved. Of course, it was really none of his business, but he hated to see them simply throwing all that money away, even if they could afford it.
On a cross street, not far from Park Avenue, the chauffeur drew up before an unpretentious-looking brownstone front, and the party rolled out of the taxi. While his two companions were fumbling in their pockets, Lawrence paid the man, who drove off at once.