‘You’ll get it into your head quick enough.—Give me a drink first—brandy, if you have it. Take a cigar. They’re first-rate. Drink, smoke, and I’ll tell you.’
He threw a huge cigar on the table, and lit one himself in a furious way. But, in spite of his rough reckless manner, he was watching Philip narrowly from under his heavy eyebrows. Philip having mechanically placed a bottle and glass on the table, stood waiting explanations.
‘Light up.’ (The command was obeyed slowly.) ‘Give us soda.... Ah, that’s better. Take some—you’ll want it to keep your courage up.’
‘Not at present, thank you. I should be glad if you would tell me at once the meaning of your strange statement that you too are in difficulties. That fact makes my loss of your money so much the worse.’
‘It’s bad—bad. Easily told. Think of me doing it! Got into a bogus thing—lost every available penny I had. That’s why there is no help for you.’
Mr Shield did not look like a person who had fallen from the height of fortune to the depth of poverty. He drank and smoked as one indifferent to the severest buffets of fate.
‘Gracious powers—you cannot be serious!’ ejaculated Philip.
‘Fact, all the same. Not ruin exactly; but not a brass farthing to come to me for a year or more.’
Philip paced the floor in agitation, unable to realise immediately the horrible calamity which had befallen his uncle. But the severity of the shock had the effect of rousing him to new life and vigour. All his misfortunes dwindled to pettiness beside those of his benefactor. He stopped before him, calm, and with an expression of firmness to which the lines made by recent calamities added strength. There was no more wildness in the eyes; he had suddenly grown old.
‘I understand, Mr Shield, that your present position is no better than my own?’ he said slowly.