“Suppose they serve you as they have served Jenner this morning?”
“They will not do that,” laughed Hamish, seeming very much inclined to make a joke of the matter. “I have squared up some sufficiently to be on the safe side of danger, and I shall square up the rest.”
Mr. Huntley fixed his eyes upon him. “How did you get the money to do it, Hamish?”
Perhaps it was the plain, unvarnished manner in which the question was put; perhaps it was the intent gaze with which Mr. Huntley regarded him; but, certain it is, that the flush on Hamish’s face deepened to crimson, and he turned it from Mr. Huntley, saying nothing.
“Hamish, I have a reason for wishing to know.”
“To know what, sir?” asked Hamish, as if he would temporize, or avoid the question.
“Where did you obtain the money that you applied to liquidate, or partially to liquidate, your debts?”
“I cannot satisfy you, sir. The affair concerns no one but myself. I did get it, and that is sufficient.”
Hamish had come out of his laughing tone, and spoke as firmly as Mr. Huntley; but, that the question had embarrassed him, was palpably evident. Mr. Huntley said good morning, and left the office without shaking hands. All his doubts were confirmed.
He went straight home. Ellen was where he had left her, still alone. Mr. Huntley approached her and spoke abruptly. “Are you willing to give up all intimacy with Hamish Channing?”