“How much will put you right?” demanded Nicholas.
“A pound, sir. The month’s rent is due to-morrow.”
Nicholas raised his eyebrows.
“Humph. Not much to stand between you and—hell. I’ve no doubt you did consider it hell. We each have our own interpretation of that cheerful abode.”
He turned the papers carefully.
“Now look here,” he said suddenly, “there’s five pounds. It’s for yourselves, mind. No more indiscriminate bestowal of charity, you understand. You begin your charity at home. Do you follow me?”
The man took the money in a dazed fashion. He was more than half bewildered at the sudden turn in events.
“I’ll repay you faithfully, sir. I’ll——”
“Damn you,” broke in Nicholas softly, “who talked about repayment? Can’t I make a present as well as you, if I like? Besides I owe you something for this ten minutes. They have been interesting. I don’t get too many excitements. That’ll do. I don’t want any thanks. Be off with you. Better go by the window. There might be a need of explanations if you tried a more conventional mode of exit now. That’ll do, that’ll do. Go, man.”
Two minutes later Nicholas was looking again towards the curtains behind which Job Grantley had vanished.