"Not another word, Mr. Gadgem. I said--I--would look--them--over--during--the--day. You've had some dealings with me and know exactly what kind of a man I am. When I want you I will send for you. If I don't send for you, come here to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and Mr. Rutter will give you his answer. Todd, show Mr. Gadgem out."

"But, Mr. Temple--you forGET that my duty is to--"

"I forget nothing. Todd, show Mr. Gadgem out."

With the closing of the door behind the agent, St. George turned to Harry. His eyes were snapping fire and his big frame tense with anger.

This phase of the affair had not occurred to him--nothing in which money formed an important part ever did occur to him.

"A cowardly piece of business, Harry, and on a par with everything he has done since you left his house. Talbot must be crazy to act as he does. He can't break you down in any other way, so he insults you before his friends and now throws these in your face"--and he pointed to the package of bills where Gadgem had laid it--"a most extraordinary proceeding. Please hand me that list. Thank you.... Now this third item ... this five hundred dollars--did you get that money?"

"Yes--and another hundred the next day, which isn't down," rejoined the young man, running his eye over the list.

"Borrowed it?"

"Yes, of course--for Gilbert. He got into a card sc.r.a.pe at the tavern and I helped him out. I told my father all about it and he said I had done just right; that I must always help a friend out in a case like that, and that he'd pay it. All he objected to was my borrowing it of a tradesman instead of my coming to him." It was an age of borrowing and a bootmaker was often better than a banker.

"Well--but why didn't you go to him?" He wanted to get at all the facts.

"There wasn't time. Gilbert had to have the money in an hour, and it was the only place where I could get it."

"Of course there wasn't time--never is when the stakes are running like that." St. George folded up the memorandum. He knew something of Talbot's iron will, but he never supposed that he would lose his sense of what was right and wrong in exercising it. Again he opened the list--rather hurriedly this time, as if some new phase had struck him--studied it for a moment, and then asked with an increased interest in his tones:

"Did Gilbert give you back the money you loaned him?"

"Yes--certainly; about a month afterward." Here at least was an a.s.set.

St. George's face lighted up. "And what did you do with it?"

"Took it to my father and he told me to use it; that he would settle with Mr. Slater when he paid his account;--when, too, he would thank him for helping me out."

"And when he didn't pay it back and these buzzards learned you had quit your father's house they employed Gadgem to pick your bones."

"Yes--it seems so; but, Uncle George, it's due them!" exclaimed Harry--"they ought to have their money. I would never have taken a dollar--or bought a thing if I had not supposed my father would pay for them." There was no question as to the boy's sense of justice--every intonation showed it.

"Of course it's due--due by you, too--not your father; that's the worst of it. And if he refuses to a.s.sume it--and he has--it is still to be paid--every cent of it. The question is how the devil is it to be paid--and paid quickly. I can't have you pointed out as a spendthrift and a dodger. No, this has got to be settled at once."

He threw himself into a chair, his mind absorbed in the effort to find some way out of the difficulty. The state of his own bank account precluded all relief in that direction. To borrow a dollar from the Patapsco on any note of hand he could offer was out of the question, the money stringency having become still more acute. Yet help must be had, and at once. Again he unfolded the slip and ran his eyes over the items, his mind in deep thought, then he added in an anxious tone:

"Are you aware, Harry, that this list amounts to several thousand dollars?"

"Yes--I saw it did. I had no idea it was so much. I never thought anything about it in fact. My father always paid--paid for anything I wanted." Neither did the young fellow ever concern himself about the supply of water in the old well at Moorlands. His experience had been altogether with the bucket and the gourd: all he had had to do was to dip in.

Again St. George ruminated. It had been many years since he had been so disturbed about any matter involving money.

"And have you any money left, Harry?"

"Not much. What I have is in my drawer upstairs."

"Then I'll lend you the money." This came with a certain spontaneity--quite as if he had said to a companion who had lost his umbrella--"Take mine!"

"But have you got it, Uncle George?" asked Harry in an anxious tone.

"No--not that I know of," he replied simply, but with no weakening of his determination to see the boy through, no matter at what cost.

"Well--then--how will you lend it?" laughed Harry. Money crises had not formed part of his troubles.

"Egad, my boy, I don't know!--but somehow."

He rang the bell and Todd put in his head. "Todd, go around outside,--see if young Mr. Pawson is in his office below us, present my compliments and say that it will give me great pleasure to call upon him regarding a matter of business."

"Yes, sah--"

"--And, Todd--say also that if agreeable to him, I will be there in ten minutes."

Punctually at ten o'clock on the following morning the shrivelled body and anxious face of the agent was ushered by Todd into St. George's presence--Dandy close behind sniffing at his thin knees, convinced that he was a suspicious person. This hour had been fixed by Temple in case he was not sent for earlier, and as no messenger had so far reached the bill collector he was naturally in doubt as to the nature of his reception. He had the same hat in his hand and the same handkerchief--a weekly, or probably a monthly comfort--its dingy red color defrauding the laundry.

"I have waited, sir," Gadgem began in an unctuous tone, his eyes on the dog, who had now resumed his place on the hearth rug--"waited IMpatiently, relying upon the word and honor of--"

"There--that will do, Gadgem," laughed St. George good-naturedly.

Somehow he seemed more than usually happy this morning--bubbling over, indeed, ever since Todd had brought him a message from the young lawyer in the bas.e.m.e.nt but half an hour before. "Keep that sort of talk for those who like it. No, Todd, you needn't bring Mr. Gadgem a chair, for he won't be here long enough to enjoy it. Now listen," and he took the memorandum from his pocket. "These bills are correct. Mr. Rutter has had the money and the goods. Take this list which I have signed to my attorney in the office underneath and be prepared to give a receipt in full for each account at twelve o'clock to-morrow. I have arranged to have them paid in full. Good-morning."

Gadgem stared. He did not believe a word about finding the money downstairs. He was accustomed to being put off that way and had already formulated his next tactical move. In fact he was about to name it with some positiveness, recounting the sort of papers which would follow and the celerity of their serving, when he suddenly became aware that St.

George's eyes were fixed upon him and instantly stopped breathing.

"I said good-morning, Mr. Gadgem," repeated St. George sententiously.

There was no mistaking his meaning.

"I heard you, sir," hesitated the collector--"_I_ heard you diSTINCTly, but in cases of this kind there is--"

St. George swung back the door and stood waiting. No man living or dead had ever doubted the word of St. George Wilmot Temple, not even by a tone of the voice, and Gadgem's was certainly suggestive of a well-defined and most offensive doubt. Todd moved up closer; Dandy rose to his feet, thinking he might be of use. The little man looked from one to the other. He might add an action for a.s.sault and battery to the claim, but that would delay its collection.

"Then at TWELVE o'clock, to-morrow, Mr. Temple," he purred blandly.

"At twelve o'clock!" repeated St. George coldly, wondering which end of the intruder he would grapple when he threw him through the front door and down the front steps.

"I will be here on the stroke of the clock, sir--on the STROKE," and Gadgem slunk out.

For some minutes St. George continued to walk up and down the room, stooping once in a while to caress the setter; dry-washing his hands; tapping his well-cut waistcoat with his shapely fingers, his thumbs in the arm-holes; halting now and then to stretch himself to the full height of his body. He had outwitted the colonel--taught him a lesson--let him see that he was not the only "hound in the pack," and, best of all, he had saved the boy from annoyance and possibly from disgrace.

He was still striding up and down the room, when Harry, who had overslept himself as usual, came down to breakfast. Had some friend of his uncle found a gold mine in the back yard--or, better still, had Todd just discovered a forgotten row of old "Brahmin Madeira" in some dark corner of his cellar--St. George could not have been more buoyant.

"Glad you didn't get up any earlier, you good-for-nothing sleepy-head!"

he cried in welcoming, joyous tones. "You have just missed that ill-smelling buzzard."

"What buzzard?" asked Harry, glancing over the letters on the mantel in the forlorn hope of finding one from Kate.

"Why, Gadgem--and that is the last you will ever see of him."