“All right, Mr. Mathews; look in at twelve o’clock to-morrow, and I’ll have it ready. Do have a glass of sherry!”
Mathews had no belief that the money would be ready at the time named, though the impecunious actor kept the appointment. He knew that the money-lender was gratified by the frequent appearance of a brougham at the door.
“Well, Mr. Mathews, I find I can’t manage the £200. I can only let you have £150. I had no idea I was so short at my bankers. Amount actually overdrawn. But I’ve got a friend to do it for you; it’s all the same. He’ll be here directly. Bless me, how long he is. Have a glass of sherry? Are you going back to the theatre? I’ll bring him with me in half-an-hour.”
Neither money-lender nor his friend appeared at the theatre. On Friday Mathews again made application for the money.
“Didn’t come till too late; but all right—you don’t want it till to-morrow, you know. What’s your treasury hour?”
“Two.”
“Be here at twelve and it shall be ready.”
The actor was there, punctual to the moment.
“All right. Have a glass of sherry? My nephew Dick has gone to the city for the cheque.”
“But the time is getting on.”