It was half an hour later that he asked her about the unsigned telegram she had sent him. What had she meant by saying good luck was coming his way?
She reluctantly confessed her determination to provide him with the money he needed.
“Of course I always knew you were clever and dear enough to manage even that,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t bother unnecessarily over the mess I’d got into.”
“Oh,” cried Barbara, “how dare you say that! Why, you were desperate; I was terrified by the things you hinted at.”
“It was disgraceful of me to talk in that way,” he admitted, ashamed. “But you haven’t told me how you intended to provide me with money. As if I’d have taken it from you! I didn’t know you were a millionaire.”
“You know Mr. Vanderstein left me £30,000, which I was to have if poor Mrs. Vanderstein died? I shall get it now, I suppose,” said Barbara, her eyes filling with tears.
Joe stroked her hand in silent sympathy, and with a quaver in her voice she went on.
“Well, I meant to borrow £10,000 on the strength of my prospects, and place it anonymously to your credit at Cox’s. So you see you would have had to take it!” she concluded triumphantly. “You wouldn’t have known who it was from.”
“I should have known perfectly well,” he said. “Who else could good luck come to me from if not from you? I knew you sent the telegram, you see.”
“You couldn’t have proved it, and you’d have had to take the money, because there would have been no one to send it back to.”