"Look here!" he said. "You've got your money. I don't owe you a cent. Now I'm going to tell you what I think of you."Wingrave rose slowly to his feet. He was as tall as the boy, long, lean, and hard. His face expressed neither anger nor excitement, but there was a slight, dangerous glitter in his deep-set eyes.
"If you mean," he said, "that you are going to be impertinent, I would recommend you to change your mind."Nesbitt for a moment hesitated. There was something ominous in the cool courage of the older man. And before he could collect himself, Wingrave continued:--"I presume," he said, "that you chose your own profession. You knew quite well there was no place in it for men with a sense of the higher morality. It is a profession of gamblers and thieves. If you'd won, you'd have thought yourself a smart fellow and pocketed your winnings fast enough. Now that you've lost--don't whine. You sat down willingly enough to play the game with me.
Don't call me names because you lost. This is no place for children. Pocket your defeat, and be more careful next time."Nesbitt was silent for a moment. Wingrave, cool and immovable, dominated him.
He gave a little laugh, and turned towards the door.
"Guess you're right," he declared; "we'll let it go at that."Aynesworth followed him from the room.
"I'm awfully glad you're out of the scrape," he said.
Nesbitt caught him by the arm.
"Come right along," he said. "I haven't had a drink in the daytime for a year, but we're going to have a big one now. I say, do you know how I got that money?"Aynesworth shook his head.
"On easy terms, I hope."
They sat down in the American Bar, and a colored waiter in a white linen suit brought them whisky and Apollinaris in tall tumblers.
"Listen," Nesbitt said. "My brain is on the reel still. I went back to my office, and if it hadn't been for the little girl, I should have brought a revolver by the way. Old Johnny there waiting to see me, no end of a swell, Phillson, the uptown lawyer. He went straight for me.
"'Been dealing in Hardwells?' he asked.
"I nodded.
"'Short, eh?'
"'Six hundred shares,' I answered. There was no harm in telling him for the Street knew well enough.
"'Bad job,' he said. 'How much does Wingrave want?'
"'Shares at par,' I answered. 'It comes to close on fifty-seven thousand six hundred dollars.'
"'I'm going to find you the money,' he said.
"Then I can tell you the things in my office began to swim. I'd an idea somehow that he was there as a friend, but nothing like this. I couldn't answer him.
"'It's a delicate piece of business,' he went on. 'In fact, the fewer questions you ask the better. All I can say is there's a chap in Wall Street got his eye on you. Your old dad once helped him over a much worse place than this. Anyhow, I've a check here for sixty thousand dollars, and no conditions, only that you don't talk.'
"'But when am I to pay it back?' I gasped.
"'If my client ever needs it, and you can afford it, he will ask for it.'
Phillson answered. 'That's all.'
"And before I could say another darned word, he was gone, and the check was there on my desk."Aynesworth sipped his whisky and Apollinaris, and lit a cigarette.
"And they say," he murmured, "that romance does not exist in Wall Street.
You're a lucky chap, Nesbitt."
"Lucky! Do you think I don't realize it? Of course, I know the old governor had lots of friends on the Street, but he was never in a big way, and he got hit awfully hard himself before he died. I can't understand it anyway.""I wouldn't try," Aynesworth remarked, laughing. "By the bye, your friend, whoever he was, must have got to know pretty quickly."Nesbitt nodded.
"I thought of that," he said. "Of course, Phillsons are lawyers for Malcolmson, Wingrave's broker, so I daresay it came from him. Say, Aynesworth, you don't mind if I ask you something?""Not at all," Aynesworth answered. "What is it?""Why the devil do you stop with a man like Wingrave? He doesn't seem your sort at all."Aynesworth hesitated.
"Wingrave interests me," he answered. "He has had a curious life, and he is a man with very strange ideas."Nesbitt finished his drink, and rose up.
"Well," he said, "he's not a man I should care to be associated with. Not but what I daresay he was right upstairs. He's strong, too, and he must have a nerve. But he's a brute for all that!"Nesbitt went his way, and Aynesworth returned upstairs. Wingrave was alone.
"Have we finished this miserable business?" Aynesworth asked.
"For the present," Wingrave answered. "Mr. Malcolmson will supply you with a copy of the accounts. See that Hardwell is credited with a quarter share of the profits. Our dealings are over for the present. Be prepared to start on Saturday for the West. We are going to look for those bears.""But the mine?" Aynesworth exclaimed. "It belongs to you now. Aren't you going out to examine it?"Wingrave shook his head.
"No," he said, "I know nothing about mines. My visit could not teach me anything one way or the other. I have sent a commission of experts. I am tired of cities and money-******. I want a change."Aynesworth looked at him suddenly. The weariness was there indeed--was it his fancy, or was it something more than weariness which shone out of the dark, tired eyes?
