"As I say, Geoff--and as, of course you know,--I am very glad to see you, anywhere; but--we don't want any unpleasantness, do we? If some of the fellows came in and found you here, they might make themselves nasty. Come round to my rooms; we shall be a lot more comfortable there, old man."
Mr. Fleming raised his eyes. He looked his friend full in the face. As he met his glance, Mr. Osborne was conscious of a curious sort of shiver. It was not only because the man's glance was, to say the least, less friendly than it might have been--it was because of something else, something which Mr. Osborne could scarcely have defined.
"I want some money."
Mr. Osborne smiled, rather fatuously.
"Ah, Geoff, the same old tale! Deecie has told me all about it. I won't reproach you; you know, if I had some, you should have it; but I'm not sure that it isn't just as well for both ourselves that I haven't, Geoff."
"You have some money in your pocket now."
Mr. Osborne's amazement grew apace--his friend's manner was so very strange.
"What a nose you always have for money; however did you find that out? But it isn't mine. You know Jim Baker left me guardian to that boy of his, and I've been drawing the youngster's dividends--it's only seventy pounds, Geoff."
Mr. Fleming stretched out his hand--his reply was brief and to the point.
"Give it to me!"