“I never recall nicknames.”
“Mr. Lamont, you’ve got good quarters here.”
Claude started a little at mention of his name.
“You see, I know you. Why, you haven’t changed a great deal. You’ve got a few more years on you, and you’ve grown a little stouter—good living, I guess. The ‘Daisy Chain’ isn’t running now, I believe. I dropped into the old place this morning, but the piano stopped four years ago and the hole is a poor bucket shop at present.”
“I don’t know,” said Claude.
“Well, Mr. Lamont, let’s to business. I’m a little hard up—somewhat desperate, to make use of a homely phrase.”
“And you think I’m a nabob when it comes to cash, eh?”
“I know you’re not Lazarus. I’ve got to have a little chink to keep the proverbial wolf from the door, and——”
“My dear sir, you’ve struck the wrong place,” broke in Claude. “I can’t accommodate you.”
Larkins fell back in his chair and seemed at his wits’ end.