He looked up. His eyes gleamed frosty interrogation, and his clipped grey moustache seemed to bristle in his purple face.
“What is it?” he grunted.
“It’s about that matter we spoke of this morning. You know I’ve been thinking it over, and I’ve decided to go on that note of yours.”
Quince was astonished. He was also overjoyed; but his manner was elaborately off-hand.
“Ah! Thanks awfully, Madden. Only a matter of renewal, you know. Old endorser went off to Europe, and the bank got after me. Well, you’ll go on the note, then?”
“Yes, on one condition.”
“Hum! Condition! What?” he demanded anxiously.
“Well,” I said. “I believe one good turn deserves another. Now I was down at the bank this morning, and I know you’re in rather a hole about that renewal. Backers for thousand dollar notes aren’t picked up so easily. However, I’m willing to go on it if you’ll”—here I paused deliberately, “give my last book a good write up in your next Compass causerie.”
His face fell. “I’m afraid—you see, I’ve promised Vaine—”
“Oh, hang Vaine! Sidetrack him.”