"I have a little there," he said awkwardly.
"How much?"
"I don't quite know, but it's certainly more than five hundred francs."
"Where did it come from?"
Through the clear dark I saw his dusky flush. "I'm sorry. I oughtn't to have asked you. Never mind."
"Derry," I said, greatly moved, "tell me: are you remembering things quite properly? You surely haven't forgotten that I have your money?"
"Eh?" he said. The next moment he had tried to cover his quick confusion. "Eh? Why, of course. What am I thinking of? It did slip my memory just for the moment; stupid! I'd got it mixed up somehow with Julia Oliphant. I was going to write to her. I remember, of course. You sold my furniture. You did sell it, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"How much did it fetch?"
This time it was my turn to evade. "Well, as you say, more than five hundred francs. I—I haven't totted it up yet. I came away in rather a hurry. But there's quite a lot, and I can let you have all you want to-morrow."