“Five will be plenty,” said Jim in a subdued tone. “I’ll give it back to you just as soon as I can, but maybe it won’t be this week, because—”
“There’s no hurry at all, Jim, so don’t be so down-hearted.” He opened a drawer in his chiffonier, found a bunch of keys and then went to his closet. “We will now open the strong-box,” he continued as he pulled a black leather suit-case from the shelf. “Say, I hope you aren’t being blackmailed, old son,” he added, chuckling.
From the suit-case, which apparently held only a discarded shirt and two ancient tennis balls, he magically produced a folded envelope. This he took to the table and opened. From it came several bills and four gold coins. “You may have gold if you’d rather,” he laughed. “That’s Christmas money from last year and the year before. I’ve got an uncle who always comes across with two of those, and somehow they never get spent. I meant to put them in the bank before I came back, but forgot it and I found them in my trunk when I landed. Here you are, old son. Sure five’s enough? Here’s two more if you say the word; or you can have one of these lovely gold coins.”
“This is plenty,” said Jim earnestly, his voice low. “Thanks, Clem. It’s mighty good of you.” He disappeared once more and again the door closed tightly behind him. Clem stared in a puzzled way, then shrugged his shoulders, returned the four gold pieces and two crumpled dollar bills to the old envelope and tossed the latter back into the bag. Then he turned the key, placed the suit-case back on the shelf and dropped the key-ring into the drawer in the chiffonier. When he had rescued his book from the window-seat and pulled the curtains across the casements, Jim had returned to the room. He had paused inside the door, his back against it, and was staring thoughtfully at the floor. Then, before Clem thought of anything to say, he roused himself and came to the table.
“I guess you’re wondering about—about that fellow,” he said slowly, “and me lending him money.”
“Well, curiosity won’t hurt me,” answered Clem cheerfully. “It’s no affair of mine, Jim, and you don’t owe any explanations.”
“He’s a fellow I used to know pretty well,” Jim went on. “He—we used to live close together and he was always mighty good to me when I was a little codger. He’s been having trouble lately; out of work and the like of that, Clem; and he’s sort of lost hold, I guess. I ran across him yesterday afternoon on State street. He was looking for me to get a little money to carry him along. I gave him three dollars and a half. That’s all I had. That’s why I had to ask you for that five dollars just now.”
“I see. But that chap doesn’t expect you to lend him money right along, I hope. Eight dollars in two days is fairly steep, isn’t it?”
Jim nodded. “He said yesterday he was going to Norwalk. Said he had a job promised him there. But it seems he didn’t have enough money left this morning for his ticket. So he wanted me to lend him some more.”
“Well, that’s all right,” said Clem. “Let’s hope he gets his job. To speak right out in meeting, Jim, I didn’t like his looks much, and his hands didn’t seem to me to show many signs of hard and honest labor. Also, if you’ll pardon me for seeming disrespect to a friend of yours—or, let us say, acquaintance—I thought I detected an aroma about him that—well, it wasn’t exactly the odor of sanctity, Jim.”