"I beg your pardon, Van Riper; you're quite right, of course. The fact is, I've got to do it. I must have the money, and I must have it now."
Mr. Van Riper stroked his sharp chin.
"Is it necessary to raise the money in that particular way? You are temporarily embarrassed—I don't wish to be intrusive—but why not borrow what you need, and give me a mortgage on the house?"
Ten years had given Jacob Dolph a certain floridity; but at this he blushed a hot red.
"Mortgage on the house? No, sir," he said, with emphasis.
"Well, any other security, then," was Van Riper's indifferent amendment.
Again Jacob Dolph strode to the window and back again, staring hard at the carpet, and knitting his brows.
Mr. Van Riper waited in undisturbed calm until his friend spoke once more.
"I might as well tell you the truth, Van Riper," he said, at last; "I've made a fool of myself. I've lost money, and I've got to pocket the loss. As to borrowing, I've borrowed all I ought to borrow. I won't mortgage the house. This sale simply represents the hole in my capital."
Something like a look of surprise came into Mr. Van Riper's wintry eyes.