“Heaven knows I’ve not found my wealth of much value to me before,” she said. “But I shall think more of it in the future if it can get a friend out of trouble. Come, take the money, Brett, and give me the bills,” she added, with a touch of impatience.
He picked up one of the notes and fingered it thoughtfully, then replaced it on the pile once more.
“I’m sorry,” he said mildly. “But it isn’t you who owe me this money. It’s Brabazon. So I can’t accept repayment from you.”
Cara glanced at him swiftly. Her lips felt suddenly dry.
“What do you mean?” she asked nervously.
“Just what I say. Brabazon is my debtor—you haven’t authority to act for him, by any chance, have you?”
“Authority? No. But I’m willing—I’m only too glad to be able to do this for him.”
Brett pushed the bundle of notes across the table towards her.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated pensively. “It’s very good of you, of course. But I couldn’t possibly take your money. I happen to be the holder of the bills, and I only give them back to Brabazon for the amount owing—or to Ann on the terms I suggested. Otherwise”—a sudden flame leapt up in his eyes—“I keep them.”
Cara stood as though turned to stone. The whole thing became perfectly clear to her on the instant. It had not been just a carelessly selfish proposal—that bargain he had made with Ann—but a deliberately thought-out scheme. Slowly she replaced the useless notes in the little silken bag which had held them.