"No; we had to discard ours. I have been trying to get a fresh equipment, but it seems hopeless in this place."
"Fire away and let's have your yarn," said Dacres encouragingly, as they walked side by side along one of the fairly-unfrequented streets running parallel with the Rue de la Tribune.
Before they reached the modest lodging Dacres had skilfully extracted the main thread of his late college-chums' adventures.
"Then you're temporarily on the rocks," he observed.
"I didn't say so," expostulated Kenneth.
"My dear man, I know you didn't, but I can put two and two together. It's a delicate subject, Everest, and I'm afraid I'm rather a blunt sort of chap, so excuse me. You're on your beam-ends?"
"Unfortunately, yes," admitted Kenneth. "The pater sent a draft to the Credit Belgique, but before I could draw on it the bank's been transferred. But it will be all right soon, I expect."
"Very well then, until things get a bit straight, let me give you a leg-up. Don't be uppish, old man. Remember we're Britons in a strange land. Luckily I'm fairly flush."
So saying, Dacres produced his purse, and extracting five twenty-franc pieces forced them into Kenneth's hand, abruptly checking the lad's mingled protestations and thanks.
"Rollo, old man, I've brought someone to see you," announced his comrade, as he opened the door of the room in which Rollo was lying in bed.