He looked serious. "Awfully little I'm afraid. And I don't know where I'm going to get any either."
"Haven't you any—put away anywhere?"
"No."
"What have you been living on?"
"What's left of that five hundred francs you were so good as to lend me—that and a couple of sketches I sold to a fellow at St Briac. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that five hundred, Sir George."
"Let me see. When did I lend it to you?"
"While I was at St Briac, you remember."
He had forgotten it was his own money. I rose from the corn-bin.
"Very well. You say you're not going to give me the slip, and that you're going to Jennie's people the moment things are all right. Will you as a first step settle up here and come along with me to my hotel now? You came here to lie doggo. That's all over. This is no place for either of you."
He blushed with embarrassment. He hesitated. But evidently the problem had been worrying him, for he looked frankly up.