"I am hardly a boy, sir. And—er—under the circumstances——"
"Ah—under the circumstances. Have you any objection to telling me the exact circumstances?"
"Not at all, sir. I wished to make some presents to my friends. I am going to give a large leaving-breakfast."
"Oh! Still, thirty pounds is a large sum——"
"Not to my father, sir. I—er—thought of coming to you, sir, with that letter."
"Did you?"
Warde took the letter from the envelope, and glanced at it with faint interest, so Beaumont-Greene thought. Then he picked up a magnifying glass and played with it. It was a trick of his to pick up objects on his desk, and turn them in his thin, nervous fingers. Beaumont-Greene was not seriously alarmed. He had great faith in a weapon which had served him faithfully, his lying tongue.
"Yes, sir. I thought you would be willing to advance the money for a few days, and then——"
"And then?"