"I might deny it, but I shan't. I'm Horace Wadsworth, all right. Fortune knows something about that chapter, but not all. Strikes you odd, eh?" continued Ryanne, iron in his voice. "Every opportunity in the world; and yet, here I am. How much do you know, I wonder?"
"You took some money from the bank, I think they said."
"Right-O! Wine, Percival; cards, wine and other things. Advice and warning went into one ear and out of the other. Always so, eh? You have heard of my brother, I dare say. Well, he wouldn't lend me two stamps were I to write for the undertaker to come and collect my remains. Beautiful history! I've been doing some tall thinking these lonely nights. Only the straight and narrow way pays. Be good, even if you are lonesome. When I get back, if I ever do, it's a new leaf for mine. Neither wine nor cards nor women."
Silence. The fire no longer blazed; it glowed.
"Who is Mrs. Chedsoye?" George finally began anew.
"First, how did you chance to make her acquaintance?"
"Some years ago, at Monte Carlo."
"And she borrowed a hundred and fifty pounds of you."
"Who told you that?" quickly.