“What if I can’t raise that amount, and then, what does a man of your present standing want with a thousand dollars?”
“What does a porcupine want with his quills?” flashed the young sport’s visitor. “He uses them, that’s what. I can use a thousand dollars.”
Lamont thought of his own account in bank.
It would not do to give that man a check for the amount, for identification might be followed with unpleasant recollections.
Suddenly he thought of the five thousand he had lately received from Lamont, senior.
A part of it was still in his pocket.
Biting his lips Claude produced the roll of bills and slowly counted out the required amount.
“There, don’t come again,” he said, looking up at Larkins, whose hand reached out for the money. “But hold on. What assurance have I that you won’t sell me out yet?”
“My word.”
“If it’s no better than your face I’m afraid it’s not worth a great deal.”