Moore became imbued with new hope, but did not hasten his inquiries as before, lest he should again daze Sheridan's semi-somnolent memory.
"Owe?" he repeated. "Some one is indebted to Sir Percival, Sherry?"
"Thass it, Tommy."
"I wonder who it can be? Of course you do not remember, Sherry?"
"Yesh I do," asserted his companion. "Itsh Mr. Dyke. He owes Sir Percival thoushand pounds."
"Good God!" exclaimed Moore, beneath his breath, horrified at what he heard.
"The bailiffs I s'posed present in m' honor are here to seize him if he don't return the moneysh to-night."
"What is the alternative the scoundrel offers?" asked Moore, confident that the debt was merely a weapon of intimidation.
"If Bessie marries him to-night he will let her father off on his debt. Otherwise he goes in limbo. She 'll have to do it, m' boy. He 'd die in Fleet Street. Oh, Tommy, what a dirty scoundrel he ish!"
"Sherry," said Moore, gratefully, pressing the old gentleman's hand as he spoke, "if I live to be a thousand years old I 'll never cease to thank you with all my heart for what you have done to-night."