Leonard stepped to the door and threw it open. Mr. Galley rose. His face betrayed many emotions. In fact, the conversation had not proceeded quite on the lines he hoped.
“Don’t be in a hurry,” he said. “Give me a little time.”
Leonard closed the door and returned to the hearth-rug.
“Take time, Mr. Galley.”
“I don’t want,” he said, “to behave ungentlemanly, but I’m in desperate trouble. If you think it’s no good sending in a claim, I withdraw it. The fact is, Mr. Campaigne, I want money. I want money desperately.”
Leonard made no reply. This was discouraging.
“I’ve been speculating—in house property—backing a builder; and the man is going. That is what has happened to me. If I can’t raise a thousand pounds in the course of a day or two I must go too.”
“You will not raise anything by sending in a bill for the maintenance of your grandmother. Put that out of your head, Mr. Galley.”
He groaned.
“Then, will you lend me a thousand pounds, Mr. Campaigne? You were very friendly when you came to see us the other day. The security is first-class—the shells of three unfinished houses—and I will give you eight per cent. for the accommodation. Good security and good interest. There you are. Come, Mr. Campaigne: you are not a business man, and I don’t think you can make, as a rule, more than three per cent. at the outside.”