‘Well, what the deuce we are going to do now, I’ll be shot if I know,’ he said as we shut the door behind us. ‘Squiff’s gone and popped the only marketable commodity in the house, and there are thirty precious pounds in London simply waiting for me to send for them.’
‘I know,’ I said; ‘couldn’t Webster, your old scout in College, lend you thirty shillings for one day? I’ve been told that he runs a house at Margate, and is worth nearly five hundred a year. Some of these College servants are regular Croesuses.’
‘Yes, that’s not half a bad idea, Martha; in fact it’s about the only thing we can do; let’s go round and interview the old bird at once.’
So saying we descended the well-worn stairs again, and hurried round to see the mysterious Webster, who wears a coat like a banker, and always takes front seats at the best concerts.
The worthy man readily lent us the needful, and so that little trouble came to an end.
Misfortunes, however, never come singly, and only that evening Reggie and I and the Pilot were progged in the Hyde, and requested in the politest manner to call on the Junior Proctor at Gloucester at 9.30 next morning.
‘I suppose,’ said the Pilot, mournfully, as we moved off, ‘that this is a quid-touch, but where my adjectived quid is to come from I don’t know.’
‘Je ne sais pas, you don’t sais pas, and he doesn’t sai pas,’ quoted Reggie.
‘Freddy gets his oof to-morrow, but certainly not by nine,’ I said.
‘Then the only thing to be done is to ask the man to wait a day, and borrow the money from Freddy when he gets his cheque,’ remarked the Pilot, cheerfully.